Of Dixon Men, Pink Scrubs, and Affairs of the Heart
by JeanneFate-x
Summary: "That's what yer really here for?" Daryl asked, unsure whether to be pissed or incredulous. "Drugs?" - "'course not, baby bro, I also came here for the pussy." Merle used his free hand to adjust the front of his pants suggestively. "Sweet, young, pink scrubs wearing pussy." Daryl/OC and Merle being... well Merle. M mostly for language, and possibly goodies, ah yes, goodies.
1. Sex, Drugs, and Surgeons in Distress

So, yeah. I was playing around with my Walking Dead OC Rebeca's back-story, and then this idea wouldn't leave me alone. So, I'm writing it out. Basically my take on what would have happened if Rebeca met the Dion brothers prior to the apocalypse.

I have an idea for a more angsty, slow- burn story, (the story I promised in Killing Loneliness) but right now I am deliberately making this lighter, for fun, because I don't wish to make this into a difficult story to chew through with suspense, suffering and emotional themes. I've read a lot of amazing Daryl/OC fics that have him all damaged and hurt, and I get that part of his character, and will tap into it too, but this is also the man who fed a baby and called her sweetheart in 'public', brought flowers to a grieving mother, saved a group of survivors down at Yellow Jacket Creek because he heard a crying baby, and practically 'begged' Glenn to forgive Merle. And that is the Daryl I want to focus on. Yes, I know that all those events were the result of his character development and growth, but this is fanfiction and I will try to make it worth your while.

And as the title suggests, there will be Merle in this fic, accompanied by my OC Rebeca, because I like her and I've decided that Daryl likes her too.

Enjoy!

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**PLAYLIST INCLUDES: **

"**Fix You**" - Coldplay

"**I Knew You Were Trouble**" - Taylor Swift

"**Skyfall**" - Adele

P.S.: **no apocalypse** though. **But there is blood, sweat, Merle's Clap, **and possibly** flirtation**.

**x.X.x**

**CHAPTER I. **

**Sex, Drugs and Surgeons in Distress**

"Ya okay there Darylina?

From what Daryl could see, his brother's lips were puckered into a grimace of mock and mild concern, but Merle's eyes never once left the road. One of his elbows was slung casually out the window while the other tapped on the steering wheel, and occasionally moved to crack the volume up.

"Just fuckin' _peachy_."

If there was ever a time that Daryl wished he could shoot his brother this was it. But the douchebag was behind the wheel, and as far as he could tell, his brother was higher than the fucking Empire State Building – that was probably the reason why Merle was so damn cheerful – and Daryl had no intentions of kicking the bucket. Also, his crossbow was stored in the backseat, and Daryl was bleeding.

Keeping the makeshift compress, which mostly consisted of torn and jumbled pieces of his shirt sleeve, to his chest, Daryl tried to shift into a more comfortable position in the front seat of the car. There was a bolt lodged deep inside the junction of his left shoulder and collarbone, and Merle's driving was doing nothing to help him with the cause.

"Don't worry, lil' brother, ol' Merle gonna take real good care of ya," the elder Dixon announced with a smirk, making a sudden turn to the right.

"Fuckin' hell, Merle!" Daryl bellowed, as the motion of the vehicle threw him roughly against the window, sending jolts of electric, white hot pain through his shoulder. "Where'dya think yer goin? Git me home."

Merle didn't even flinch. If anything, his smug smile widened.

"Now, now, baby bro. 'm takin' ya to someone who can blow on yer owwies." Merle's eyes glinted lewdly. "Blow other things too, ya play yer cards right."

"... asshole" was all Daryl could manage to grit through his teeth. He would never admit it in front of his brother, but the wound had started hurting like a mother half way to where ever the fuck Merle was taking him, when the effects of Merle's Vicodin stash started to wane, and the pain was only getting worse. The intensity of it made it hard to breathe, let alone tell Merle how much of a goddamn bastard piece of shit he was.

A small compound of buildings was coming to view and it took an incredible amount of effort for Daryl to turn his torso enough to glance out the side window. The complex was tiny, strangely familiar... and _pink_.

"The hell," Daryl scowled. "Ya can't be serious. That's a woman's clinic!"

Merle's eyes flashed warningly, but Daryl ignored it, so he went on to say, "Lucky for ya, baby brother, cause from all that bitchin' I've been hearin' from ya today, ya ain't got no balls to speak of."

"Ya mean from when ya shot me?" Daryl shot back over the ACDC blaring from the speakers. "'Cause that's th'way I r'member it."

"Hell, why you always hav'ta be such a damn pessimist?" Merle asked without a sprinkle of remorse, while pulling their car into the driveway leading to the clinic. Completely disregarding the empty parking spots, he stopped directly in front of the entrance. "There we go. Gonna get ya fixed up, baby bro, and get me some damn fine happy pills too. 's what I call a win-win situation."

"That's what yer really here for?" Daryl asked, unsure whether to be pissed or incredulous, so he chose a mixture of both, while he struggled to get out of the passenger seat without further damaging his shoulder. "Drugs?"

"'course not." Merle walked over to Daryl's side of the car and slunk Daryl's good hand over his shoulders to help him stand. From the corner of his eye Daryl could see Merle's devilish smirk. "I also came here for the pussy."

He paused to use his free hand to adjust the front of his pants suggestively. "Sweet, young, pink scrubs wearing pussy."

**x.X.x**

There were days when Rebeca Pierce loved being a surgeon. Those were the days when she got to save lives, deliver babies, and bring smiles to families' faces. Then there were bad days; shitty-as-fuck days; days that just kept getting worse by the second; days you kept hoping would get better, but they just don't.

This was one of them.

Usually Rebeca enjoyed her work at the free clinic. To be honest, it felt like a vacation from her overbooked surgical schedule. True, it involved seeing numerous cervixes, the majority of which harbored quite heinous infections; handing out free condoms and writing prescriptions for painkillers and antibiotics, but at least she had the time to eat lunch. But today was different.

Today Rebeca lost a patient.

The pregnant woman had been rushed to the clinic by a panicked husband. They didn't have the money to afford going to the fancy hospital in Atlanta, so when the man came home and found his wife bleeding and writhing from the force of her contractions, he acted on impulse. He brought her in, begging Rebeca to save her, save them.

Rebeca could deliver the baby with an emergency C-section, but it was too late for the mother. She did everything she could, fought for the woman's life with all she was worth, but it was pointless. The woman bled out, and there was nothing Rebeca could have done to stop it.

She didn't even know the woman, but it broke her heart regardless of her medical training, and the thick skin she was supposed to have developed during it. Losing patients was an everyday occurrence in the medical world, but it hit Rebeca hard every time. Although death was only a feet or two away from very operating table, for some reason, nobody ever expected it. And even if one did, nobody was ever _ready_ for it.

Despite the fact that a new life had emerged from the tragedy, it still felt like a very Pyrrhic Victory when she had to tell the husband that his wife was gone. He didn't want to see his baby girl, and Rebeca could see he was a broken man. There was nothing she could do, but watch him walk away, and then do as much damage control as she could.

Rebeca was exhausted. She wanted the day to be over. She wanted her bed, a cup of tea and something to numb her headache, but she was hardly half way through her shift. So all she could do was slip out the back door of the clinic to get some fresh air.

With a sigh of pure frustration, Rebeca leaned her back against the wall. The rough surface dug into her back through her thin shirt and scrubs, but it was nice and cool in contrast to the humid summer air, so she was willing to overlook the discomfort. Furiously she rubbed her eyes in the hopes of massaging away the pounding in her head, but her actions remained fruitless. If anything, her head hurt worse.

Yes, this was definitely one of those days when it would have been more productive to stay in bed, but what Rebeca didn't know was that it was about to get worse before it got better. If it got better at all.

Her pager went off almost at the exact same time that her favorite nurse Irena rushed through the doors. It only took one glance at the woman to tell Rebeca something was wrong. Terribly, horribly wrong. The woman's eyes were wide and panicked, and she was struggling to get her breathing under control, indicating that she must have ran all the way from the front desk.

"What happened? What's wrong? Talk to me!" Rebeca grabbed the woman's shaking shoulders, trying to snap her out of her shock.

"Two men," Irena gasped, "blocked the driveway, one's shot, the other one's bat shit crazy. T-they had a crossbow and I think I saw a gun."

"What?!" Rebeca's breath caught.

This was a simple, little clinic. The personnel consisted solely of women, mostly nurses and a few doctors like her. The patients were adolescent girls, pregnant women who couldn't afford a fancy doctor and children. Innocent, frightened children. There was no real security to come to their aid, no one to protect them, and the closest police station was out in the city. Due to a tight budget, the clinic only had one security guard, but Earl was an old, overweight man, who had probably never fired anything more dangerous than a paint ball gun. Now there were two armed men parked on their doorstep, They were all in danger, and Rebeca was in charge.

Irena was shaking. "They strode in, started barking orders. One... one knew your name. Kept saying to call Becky. I'm scared, everyone's scared. What do we do, what do we _do_?"

"Okay, okay," Rebeca said, more to give herself courage than to calm Irena. "I'll go see what they want... Do something. Anything. Stall."

"No, no, you can't."

Irena's hands came to clutch at Rebeca's sleeve. "

"Irena, I have to. There are pregnant women there, _children_. This guy wants me, there's not much we can do to stop him." Rebeca took a deep breath, prying Irena's hands away. "Best give him what he wants."

The nurse tried to hold her back, but Rebeca's grip on her wrists was surprisingly strong. She tried to pull off a reassuring smile, but it probably looked like a painful grimace. "Call the police. I'll be fine."

"Rebeca, no!" Irena cried, but the young woman was already sprinting for the door.

Rebeca's heart was beating in her chest, and her every nerve felt alive with fear, but she would not let that stop her. She was not abandoning her patients. She was the daughter of a member of the National Guard, her brothers were trained marines, she could handle this. As she skidded around the corner leading to the reception, she was braced for the worst, but nothing could have truly prepared her for what had awaited her in the lobby of the clinic.

Or rather: _who_.

**x.X.x**

Well this is part 1. It's short, I know. But I wanted to end it here, if not for the suspense. **What is Merle up to? And how did Daryl get shot? Will anyone else get shot? Or am I planning something else? And the most important question: did I completely fuck up Merle's characterization? **

Also, the name Irena is a little tribute to my little sister, because she's the one who urged me to write this, and she's the one who always reads and encourages my stories. And she's an awesome little potato, and I love her.

Anyway, tell me what you think, I appreciate the feedback. Really **I'm just a sucker for reviews**.


	2. Guns, Crossbows, and Etiquette

Hello dear readers. I'm so happy to see so many of you like this little figment of my imagination, **so thank you, thank you, thank you to all of you reviewing and following Rebeca and Daryl**.

Anyway, I've decided that this story probably won't be very long. Ten chapters tops, possibly less. But I'll make sure they are good ones. I want to finish this before I start writing anything else, because finals are coming and the last week of May will be hell on earth, and that's only a prelude to June and all its horrors, so please, be patient with me.

**I own nothing, except Rebeca, the plotbunnies, and possibly a new bikini.**

Enjoy.

**P.S.:** Gosh it's really interesting/frustrating to write Daryl and Merle's accents while cramming for my stick-up-their-ass-propper-grammar-shit English Major exams. Also the amounts of times I've mentioned Merle's knife-hand-thing, only to remember he doesn't have one in this story, is too damn high.

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**PLAYLIST:**

"**What Have You Done**" - Within Temptation

"**Troublemaker**" - Olly Murs

"**Comfortably Numb**" - Pink Floyd

**x.X.x**

**CHAPTER II.**

**Guns, Crossbows, and Etiquette**

"The fuck ya tray'n ta pull, man?!"

Merle was striding towards the doors of the clinic, more dragging than leading his injured brother alongside him, and his lips twitched at Daryl's hiss. "Patience, lil' brother, good things come to those who wait'n shit."

Daryl scowled. "Don't tell me ya got a plan or sumthin'?"

"Don't need no plan, son, 'm getting ya fixed, then I'mma get me a fix'n' split." Merle flashed a lopsided smirk, then pushed the hem of his unbuttoned shirt away to reveal the gun hidden inside his pants. "Anyone get in the way, well lets just say they gonna find themselves in need of medical attention."

"Ya crazy?" Daryl demanded, grimacing as Merle's quick movements jolted his shoulder. "There's kids in there, pregnant women."

"Ya gonna tell me they got baby Jesus in there next?" Merle stopped right in front of the swinging doors to the clinic to appraise his brother. "What's yer problem, lil' brother, 'fraid yer dick'll get hard for once, seein' the ladies? If ya even possess one."

"Shut the hell up." Daryl's eyes darkened menacingly, and he tried to pull away from Merle's support, but it was pointless. He didn't have the strength to fight his brother, even if his fingers were twitching into a fist around the compress on his wound in pure rage. Merle would be loosing teeth over this after Daryl was patched up. If no one got killed before that happened.

"Lemme tell ya sumthin', baby brother," Merle growled, his eyes glinting dangerously, and Daryl could see the effects of Meth in the pupils. His brother was dosed up and twice the asshole he was when he was clean. He was also twice as dangerous. "You'd best start showin' some respect't people tryn'a save yer sorry good for nothin' ass. All this time tryn' to make a man outta ya, and yer still a little bitch."

"I ain't nobody's bitch," Daryl thundered. "Ya want respect? Show yer fuckn' worth it."

As soon as the words left his mouth, Daryl knew he had said the wrong thing. He had basically dared his brother to do something dangerous and stupid. Despite those two things being the basis of Merle's every conscious or unconscious action, when Merle did them, he was usually far away from innocent people who could get hurt in the process. Now, Daryl had set him off at a clinic full of women and children. Daryl's stomach dropped and the anger that had previously made him see red was dissipating like air from a burst balloon.

Merle chuckled low in his throat, but it was not a pleasant sound. It was threatening, almost mad, and Merle's eyes flashed towards the doors of the clinic and back. "Ya wanna see respect, Darylina? Here's respect for ya."

With that, Merle's hand flashed to his gun, while his other hand tightened around Daryl's torso. Then, he shoved the swinging doors open, and before Daryl could stop him, he strode into the clinic, weapon in hand.

"Good day, ladies."

Merle's voice rang out, carried off of the empty wally. Every single pair of eyes in the waiting room darted to them. Next came the panicked gasps, then a few screams. A sob. Then a terrible, dragged out silence.

From the corner of his eye Daryl could see several mothers grasp at their children, while others wrapped their hands protectively around their swollen stomachs. He felt sick, and he knew it had nothing to do with the pain and blood-loss he was experiencing.

He had to figure out a way to distract his brother, stop this. Fast. But he had no idea how. Once Merle got going, there was nothing anyone could do to stop him. Not when he was this high.

A terrified little nurse slowly rose her hands into the air, without having even been asked to do so. She eyed the two men carefully, and Daryl could see exactly what she was seeing. Two dirty, armed rednecks out for blood.

"S-sir," she gasped out breathlessly, and Daryl could see she was trying to sound calm. "Please, if there's a-anything you need- We can-"

"Listen, sugar-tits, me and my brother here," Merle let go of Daryl to get the space to point towards him, making the hunter stumble to regain his balance, "are in need of some taking care of, if ya know what I mean."

Merle had the audacity to wink, and the nurse shuddered visibly.

"Y-yes, o-of course. P-please, if you would put the gun down we'll-"

"Now here's where I thought ya people were smart," Merle exclaimed. "Ya don't tell a man with a gun what he oughtta do."

"Here's what's gonna happen," he continued, the hand holding his gun twitching just to scare the nurse. "You, sweetcheeks, be real good and do ol' Merle a sollid, will ya?"

The nurse paled and Daryl could see a tear roll down her face. He cursed his retard of a brother then. He cursed his injury, his spinning head, his inability to do something other than lean against the counter and catch his breath.

"See that? Ain't it nice when strangers get along?" Merle's tongue swiped over his lower lip in amusement. "Now, sweetheart, there's someone I want ya to fetch for me. Young gal, real pretty, too. Knows her way 'round painkillers and shit. Name's Becky, ring any bells?"

The woman stared motionlessly for a few seconds, her eyes wide and frightened, then she gave a quick, jerky nod.

"See that, lil' brother, we're finally getting' somewhere. And there ya was being' so damn skeptical." The elder Dixon turned to finally address his brother in a much too cheerful way. He walked closer to where Daryl was all but hanging on the counter, his breath coming out in shallow pants, then proceeded to slap him across the back.

Daryl sputtered. The pain was electric, but Merle seemed oblivious to his brother's discomfort. "What's got yer panties in a twist, baby bro?"

A child's sob echoed from the corner of the room, before Merle could continue. It was immediately followed by a quiet ad frightened shushing sound from a woman who was probably their mother.

People were terrified.

Merle was amused.

"Honestly, I have no damn idea what ya good people are so worked up 'bout. Y'all been havin' a bad day or sumthin?" Merle chuckled at his own joke, then turned to the nurse again. "Ya deaf, lady? Ya get me Becky or I'mma start havin' a bad day. And trust me, ya don't want me havin' a bad day."

Eyes narrowed, he jerked his chin towards the empty hallway behind the nurse, and the poor woman stumbled backwards. She slowly inched towards the end of the counter, her eyes darting from Merle's gun to Daryl's form and the bolt lodged inside his shoulder. She then backed up further down the hallway, always eyeing the gun, before finally breaking into a frantic sprint.

Having sent the woman off on her crazy errand, Merle suddenly relaxed and leaned against the counter right next to Daryl with an exaggerated sigh.

Daryl somehow gathered the strength to shoot his brother a look. "Just stop, man. Let's go b'fore someone calls the cops. What the hell ya want with these people?"

Daryl was hurting. Everywhere. His shoulder had started bleeding again, and his vision was swimming. It had been hours since he got shot, and the hike and long drive needed to get to the clinic had not been a fucking picnic. They'd used up all their drinking water to clumsily clean around the wound, adding dehydration to the mix of goddamn warm fuzzies of the day. Now his brother lost his mind. Maybe if Daryl could pick up his crossbow from the ground, he could convince Merle to walk away. He tried to move, but only ended up growling in pain.

"Weren't ya payin' attention, little brother? There's only one person I want somethin' from," Merle drawled. "Name's Becky, and damn can she make a man happy."

Merle laughed while suggestively grabbing at the front of his pants, completely disregarding the gulps and sobs coming from the women in the waiting room. Daryl didn't. "Tiny, lil' thing. Black hair, green eyes, hips ya wanna grab onto. She's a real keeper."

"She's also standing right here."

**x.X.x**

For a moment or two after she finally reached to the reception Rebeca thought she was hallucinating. There was no way in hell she was really seeing Merle fucking Dixon in her clinic, waving a gun around and threatening her patients. Then again, her brain was not that creative.

She was still trying to catch her, as she took in what was happening in the lobby. There was Merle with the gun, grinning like an idiot, arms wide open like he expected her to jump into his embrace and ride off into the sunset with him. Her patients, scared and crying, huddled together. Some were holding hands, but were otherwise unharmed. Lastly, her eyes stopped on the guy slumping against the reception counter; the guy who was bleeding allover her charts, with a crossbow leaned next to him, and a bolt stuck inside his chest.

For a second, Rebeca was at a loss for words. Then came the anger. "Jesus fucking Christ, Dixon! What the hell is going on here?"

Merle's lips puckered in feigned hurt. He tilted his head backwards, and dropped his arms back to his side. With his eyes exposed to the light, it took Rebeca a single glance to see he was drugged up. Hell, the man was one dose short of interstellar travel. "What? Can't a guy visit?"

Judging by the bleeding guy with the crossbow, Merle was here for more than just catching up on exchanging innuendos. Her eyes flickered from the man's face to his gun.

The safety was still on. _The safety was on_. And Merle seemed oblivious.

If there was anything she'd picked up from growing up in a family of soldiers, it was how to operate a gun. She had a small advantage. She would make the best of it.

Rebeca took a deep breath, trying to calm her raging nerves. She could do this. Merle was fucked up. If she stalled, got his attention, maybe she could get Irena enough time to call the police. She had dealt with the guy before, but at that time the circumstances had been different. There were no firearms involved, no civilians, and no semi-conscious Robin Hoods with crossbows to worry about.

A drop of perspiration rolled down the back of her neck and disappeared in her thick black hair. Focusing all her attention on Merle's face, she didn't notice Daryl's eyes following hers when she was looking at the gun.

"Most guys call first," she remarked, hoping to get him talking. If she knew one thing about Merle Dixon, it was that he would talk your ear off if you let him. "What's up with William Tell over there?"

"Oh ya mean my baby bro?" Merle asked cheerfully. "Little huntin' accident. Was hopin' ya might wanna check him out? He's been bitchin' 'bout it all day."

"All day?" Rebeca's eyes widened in shock. "You mean to tell me he's been like this _all day_?"

Jesus Christ, how was the guy even standing?

Merle shrugged. "Give or take."

Rebeca nearly choked on whatever she was trying to say, so she remained silent. No wonder the redneck was waving guns around, Rebeca would have brought a tank if it meant saving her brothers.

_Merle's brother._ She remembered Dixon mentioning something about having a brother when they met. What was his name? Something starting with D...Dan? Darren? _Daryl._ That sounded about right.

"Why the hell didn't you just say so?" she demanded. "Hell, Dixon, you barge in here, guns blazing, higher than a damn spaceship?! You want your brother fixed, you could have just damn well said so."

She sucked in a deep breath, her anger turning to despair. "Frightening children, Merle? Really?"

"Why y'all makin' such a fuss 'bout them kids. Ain't done nothin' to 'em," Merle said, but his voice dropped some of its edge. He raised up his gun, but didn't point it at anyone. "Can't ya people handle a little show'n'tell?"

Rebeca heard enough. "Just give it a rest. You want your brother fixed up, get out of my way."

Just as she strode forward, her sights set on Daryl's heaving form, she suddenly felt movement behind her.

She didn't know who it was but she had her suspicions. Unfortunately for them all, Merle had a twenty-twenty vision.

Immediately, the hand that held his gun, the one he had previously relaxed, flexed. Then he pointed it at whoever was standing behind Rebeca.

"Now, darin', what'dya think yer doin' with that phone?" Merle's eyes glinted, then with a motion so fast it was just a blur to Rebeca's eyes, he turned the gun's safety off.

Oh, God, he knew it was on the entire time. They were screwed.

Rebeca dared a quick glance over her shoulder, only to spot Irena's quivering form. Rebeca's heart pounded in her chest. The poor woman had followed her. With her phone. Without calling the police.

"And here I thought we was friends, huh?" Merle commented, taking a threatening step forward.

Rebeca's blood froze. They had to do something, or someone was going to die. And she doubted it would be the Dixon brothers.

Without thinking, she took a step back trying to shield Irena. She held up her hands. "Merle, listen, you have to calm down-"

"Calm down?" Merle's voice was a low, with an air of the disbelieving laughter of a madman. "Don't ya go tellin' me to calm down, girl."

Merle advanced, his gun pointed directly at Rebeca, finger on the trigger. "I'm gonna shoot ya dead, don't ya think I w~"

She waited for the shot, but it never came. Instead, she heard a disturbing noise of metal hitting something soft. That noise being the sound of a collision between crossbow and skull, and then Merle fell to the ground like a sack of potatoes.

It took Rebeca a second to gather her wits, and another few to find her voice.

"Well," she gasped softly, trying to shake off the shock, "that's one way of handling things."

"Ya okay?"

The voice that asked the question was gruff, hoarse and strained. And it belonged to the crossbow-toting hunter, who, to the best of Rebeca's knowledge, had been leaning immobile against a counter only a second ago.

Rebeca forced herself to look at the younger Dixon, only to be met with a scowl and surprisingly blue eyes. "Ay, lady, ya alright?"

The look in his eyes was a mixture of anger, concern, and pain. He kept staring at her like he was expecting something, and Rebeca realised she never answered him.

"Y-yes," she nodded, her eyes still wide and panicked, but her heartbeat was no longer trying to pound its way through her ribcage. "Thanks."

He nodded in acknowledgement, but didn't say anything.

Rebeca exhaled a tired, wheezing breath. "Daryl I presume?"

**x.X.x**

Aaaand Daryl saves the day. **But is anyone going to fix his damn shoulder already?** **Will Rebeca get to play doctor in the next chapter? How long will Merle's little nap last? How does Merle know Rebeca?** So many questions, stay tuned to find out.

Not much Rebeca/Daryl interaction here, but I wanted it that way, because there will be plenty of that in future chapters.

Let me just say thank you to all of you following and reviewing. I am so happy to see so many of you following only the first chapter. So I decided to get this out sooner, as a thank you to all you awesome readers.

**Reviews make my world go round. So... please? **

Last but not least...** SHOUT-OUTS**:

**GetTraught **–Thank you so much for the review, and sorry I didn't answer your question yet, but it will be revealed very soon. It's a fun(ny) story, actually. At least I hope it is.

**Leyshla Gisel** – you were pretty close, actually. :D

**jouetdedestin** – here it is. I hope you like it.

**YouKnowWho** – thank you. It means a lot to have my friends support my writing. And don't worry you'll be getting your coffee tomorrow.

**Guest** – your wish is my command.

**DarylLover4321** – yes, Merle and his shenanigans. Who knows what he has planned next. Probably a long nap. Hehe.


	3. Banter, Blue Eyes, and a Battle of Wills

You people are awesome. Every time I go to check my email I get happier than Merle on crack by all the notifications of people following and reviewing. Thank you all so much.

Time for some Daryl and Rebeca fun. I'm excited are you excited? But enough of my rambling, I have some shout outs to give out.

**DarylLover4321** – thank you. I hope this chapter gives you what you asked for. :)

**Maddy120296** – I'm not his biggest fan either, but for some reason I find some twisted humour in his actions. And here he is the catalyst for Daryl and Rebeca meeting and he has a further role to play still, so stay tuned, maybe I can redeem him. Or maybe he's beyond help. Hmm. Thank you for the review.

**Leyshla Gisel** – A crossbow in the head is no fun way to take a nap. We'll see how he copes. :) Also, thank you for reviewing. It means so much to me.

**SarahFashion** – Thank you so much for reviewing and for the compliments.

**WhatsGoingOn** – oh my gosh I love you for coming up with the couple name! I love it! I can't make any promises for there being zombies in this story, but when I finish it, I will write another Rebyl story. And maybe I might even connect the two together. We'll see. Thank you so much for reviewing.

**P.S.:** am I the only one desperate for October to see season 4? Seriously my obsession is getting pathetic. I spend most of my time, which should be used for studying, to browse gifs of Norman Reedus on tumblr, and reading Daryl/OC fics. And of course writing this for you.

Enjoy

**Disclaimer: I own nothing but Rebeca and the plot!**

* * *

**PLAYLIST:**

"**Put Your Lights On**" - Santana

"**Snow (Hey Oh)**" - Red Hot Chili Peppers

"**Titanium**" - David Guetta feat. Sia

**x.X.x**

**CHAPTER III.**

**Banter, Blue Eyes, and a Battle of Wills**

She knew his name.

Daryl guessed there really was no mystery how or why she knew it, the answer was lying on the floor in an unconscious heap of redneck, but it still made him uneasy. It wasn't the fact that she knew his name per se, it was the thought of what else she might have found out about him from Merle. It made Daryl feel exposed, almost vulnerable.

It was obvious that his brother and the woman knew each other, the question remaining was _how_. Merle had never mentioned her until now, and Daryl was pretty sure she was not one of his brother's bed warmers. If she were, Merle would never have shut up about it, and Daryl was glad, because for some reason the thought of Merle touching her, made his skin crawl. His brother had said that she could make a man happy right before Daryl's crossbow had a near meeting with his scull, but that was an inadequate description. It was something Merle could say about his hookers, the skinny, bitchy wenches who reeked of cigarettes and cheap perfume. She was none of these things.

She was lean, but Daryl could see the hint of curves showing through her baggy scrubs, and from the sight of her bare arms he could see that she had some muscle definition. Not bulky, just firm. Her hair was dark, with a rebellious wave that made it fall heavily past her shoulders, and, like Merle said, her eyes were green. But it was the kind of green that startled, the kind that made you want to stare. Granted, she was not the most attractive woman in Georgia, but she was good looking. And even though Daryl didn't know her, or trust her, or care; he noticed.

"Anyway, I'm Rebeca... Pierce." Rebeca said, snapping Daryl out of his thoughts, and into a very painful reality in which he was bleeding, and his brother had assaulted innocent people.

He didn't look at her, just gave a little grunt that was neither affirmative nor dismissive.

"Not a big talker huh?" Rebeca murmured, and as if trying to prove her point, Daryl didn't respond.

"Well," she shrugged, and flashed a sudden smile, hoping to ease some tension between them, "with Lucy In the Sky With Diamonds here I guess it's pretty hard to get a word in."

She nudged Merle's unconscious form with the tip of her shoe, and Daryl had to fight back a snort of amusement at her Beatles reference. She didn't seem afraid of Merle, now that he was on the floor, but Daryl could tell she was still keeping her guard up. Other patients had also visibly relaxed seeing his lunatic of a brother was no longer waving firearms around, and nobody was reaching for a phone to call the police. Regardless, it was obvious that Merle could not just be left on the floor indefinitely, because he was bound to wake up, and then there would be hell to pay. And Daryl, as much as he hated to admit it, needed help.

"What are ya gonna do about him?" he asked, nodding his head towards Merle's unconscious body, his voice clearly strained from the pain he was feeling.

"I'm going to lock him up in a room, so he can't hurt anyone." Rebeca said, following his gaze down to the older redneck. "Jesus, he's higher than the kids in the bathroom from that Fun song,"

She paused. "I'm not calling the police. If that's what you're worried about."

Daryl was impressed. Usually, when dealing with his brother, or him for that matter, women's first reaction was to run in the opposite direction, occasionally screaming. But Rebeca, now that the initial shock had subsided, seemed calm and collected.

Daryl gave a curt nod. "Thanks."

Rebeca smiled. "Don't worry about it. We get creeps like this almost on a weekly basis. Usually without guns," her eyes flashed to Daryl's crossbow which was lying on the floor, "or crossbows though. But I've dealt with Merle before, so the only issue left is your injury."

Her piercing eyes stopped on his shoulder and the bolt lodged inside it, and Daryl immediately tensed. He knew he needed the injury taken care of, the pain he was feeling was enough of an indication, but he had planned on bandaging it up himself, before Merle put his crazy plan of storming a women's clinic in action. He didn't like the plan from the beginning, and he liked it even less now. He didn't know this woman, and he sure as hell didn't trust her. The wound wasn't hurting as much now anyway, and it stopped bleeding.

"'m fine," he grumbled roughly, but his hand never left his shoulder.

A soft disbelieving sound escaped Rebeca's lips. "Of course you are."

She slowly took a step closer. "Look, with all that's happened today, you adrenalin levels are probably skyrocketing, and that's what's keeping the full impact of your injury at bay. But that looks really bad, and if you don't let me treat-"

"Don't care," Daryl practically growled and turned around, not wanting to look at her intense gaze.

Gripping his shoulder tighter in hopes of helping with the pain, he attempted to lean down to pick up his crossbow. As soon as he did, his head, which had cleared after he gathered the strength to knock out his brother, spun. The pounding in his temples returned, and so did the pain in his ribcage that he had been trying to ignore. His knees bucked underneath him, and he tumbled to the ground.

He expected his knees to hit the tiled ground painfully, but it never happened. Before he could fall to the floor, something small and surprisingly strong wrapped around his waist, keeping him upright. With surprising speed Rebeca had her ams around his chest to support most of his weight. Daryl, although simultaneously annoyed at someone unknown woman fussing over him, was glad for her intervention. Had he fallen onto the floor, the impact would have pushed the bolt deeper into his flesh, and that was the last thing he wanted happening.

Rebeca exhaled a loud and breathless '_oof_' at the stress of keeping Daryl on his feet, but as she spoke she still managed to sound sarcastic. "Is this your definition of fine?"

His legs felt heavy, forcing him to lean into her further. He expected her to give in under his weight – he was probably twice her body mass – but she didn't. She was much stronger than he had given her credit for upon first glance. She was also incredibly _warm_.

"Shut up," Daryl grumbled through his stupor, causing Rebeca to heave an exhausted chuckle.

"Listen, Daryl," she said softly but firmly, carefully helping Daryl find his footing, then led him to the nearest chair so he could sit down. "You clearly need help, your brother's unconscious on the floor, and you can't drive. The wound is already infected, I can see it from here, and you have a fever, if I don't treat this immediately, you could die."

He wanted to tell her to leave him alone. He wanted to tell her to go to hell, but something stopped him. Maybe it was the gentle yet determined look in her eyes; or the intensity of the pain he was in; or the fact that behind the anger, frustration, and the feeling of helplessness that he was struggling with, he knew this injury was not something he could beat on his own, but Daryl caved.

He shrugged almost violently, then hissed in pain as the sudden movement sent jolts of pain through him. "Whatever. Do what ya have to do."

Despite his hostile response, Rebeca's lips pulled into a triumphant smile. She was used to difficult patients, so she didn't really mind his attitude. She just wanted to help him so she could get him and his brother out of her clinic. And speaking of Merle, she needed to get him off the lobby floor, and take care of her patients.

She turned away from Daryl to address Irena, who had returned to the reception counter, still shaken from her close call with Merle. "Okay, here's what we are going to do. Irena, I need you to call Earl, he'll help you get Merle into an empty room. I don't care where you put him, just make sure there are no pointy objects near his grasp. Better yet, no objects what so ever. He's going to be on withdrawal when he wakes up, and he's going to be pissed. Use Earl's handcuffs to make sure he doesn't cause any trouble, and I'll deal with him after I help his brother."

Although still not having fully recovered from her distress, Irena nodded.

"What about the patients?" she asked, her voice hushed.

Rebeca considered the question for a moment. "Reschedule all the patients who do not require immediate attention, divide the others among Clara and Lauren, then call the hospital in Atlanta, tell them I requested they send over an OB-GYN resident, tell them there's been an emergency and we need the extra set of hands. I'll take care of the rest."

Irena was dialing the phone, before she even finished talking, and just as Rebeca turned back to Daryl, the door of the clinic swung open to reveal an elderly, overweight man dressed into a security guard uniform. Apart from his panting, there were no other indications that he had been in a particular hurry to get to the clinic.

"Is there a problem? I heard a commotion."

The irony of having the security guard, whose job was to prevent the kind of ordeal that had went down, arrive at the scene last and oblivious was not lost on Rebeca. She just rolled her eyes and ran her hands through her hair to prevent herself from exploding at the old man.

"Nothing, Earl, just-" she started, but stopped when she realised she had no idea how to explain what happened.

Luckily Irena jumped to her rescue. "Don't worry, I'll take care of this. You help him."

She motioned to Daryl, who was slumping forward on his chair, his breath coming out in loud uneven pants, and her face twisted in concern. The two women exchanged a look, and then in a matter of seconds they were both in motion. Irena was grabbing Merle by the arms and shouting orders to Earl, who at first looked concerned and then rushed to help in any way he could.

Meanwhile, Rebeca helped Daryl to his feet. His state was deteriorating, and she needed to get him to an exam room down the hall. She spotted a gurney a few feet away and made her way towards it, dragging the semi-conscious hunter with her. She almost reached it, when Daryl's droopy eyes flickered open.

"What are ya doing?" his voice was low and raspy, but because they were so close from her acting as a live crutch, the vibrations of his voice send tremors though Rebeca's body.

Rebeca glanced at him incredulously from the corner of her eye. It was hard enough keeping him up, and now he was going to ask stupid questions? "I'm having a freaking picnic. What does it look like I'm doing? I'm getting you into an exam room."

"With... that." From Daryl's tone of voice it was easily deduced that he found her equally annoying. Rebeca had no idea why, until he jerked his head towards the gurney. "Don't need no fancy ride."

Did he expect her to pull a Dumbledore and apparitate him into the exam room? The man was insane.

"You can't be serious?" Rebeca panted.

"I can walk," he grumbled.

"Sure you can," she deadpanned.

"Shut up." A growl this time.

She's heard that before.

"Look, Iron Man, I really don't feel like arguing with you about every little thing. Right now, I'm the only thing keeping you upright, and I can't drag you much further."

The woman was goddamn infuriating. It was torture enough for Daryl to feel dependent of his brother, but to require the help of a woman, who was less than half his size, was downright humiliating. If Merle thought he was a pussy before, Daryl would never hear the end of it, if his brother found out he couldn't even walk a few feet down a corridor. But Rebeca just didn't want to get it. To make matters worse, with the way she was holding him up she was allover his personal space, the scent of her shampoo invading his nostrils.

Daryl had never been a patient man, especially when it came to people who pissed him off, and Rebeca was doing a mighty fine job at that. And although he would never hit a woman, he was not above telling one off. "I said I'd walk, I'll fuckin' walk."

"Like you are now?" she shot right back.

A low threatening sound rumbled from deep within Daryl's chest, and his eyes flashed with anger, but Rebeca didn't even flinch. She tilted her head so she could have a better view of his face. The position hurt her neck, but she didn't care. If the man was going to be a stubborn, idiotic redneck, so be it. She could play that game.

Her eyes bore into his, and she was startled to discover that, even in pain and anger, they were incredibly blue, almost cerulean. The colour stood out in sharp contrast to his dark hair, and it was his only facial feature not covered in several layers of dirt, and despite her own anger, Rebeca felt captivated. But this was not the time to admire his physique.

This was a battle of wills, and Rebeca hated losing.

* * *

Here's chapter 3 everybody. At first I wanted to include the part where Rebeca actually does get to show off her medical skills, but I decided to stop here, because jamming that part into this chapter felt a little forced. The next part includes some awkward, medically necessary intimacy, and Rebeca and Daryl just aren't ready for that in this chapter. But I hope you enjoyed it.

**So, what do you think? How bad is the injury? What will happen to Merle? Is Daryl wrong in his assumption that Merle and Rebeca have no questionable history together? Will these two ever stop bantering?** Stay tuned to find out.

Reviews are to me what the crossbow is to Daryl. So, please?


	4. Untold Stories, Painful Reminders, and

I can't believe you guys. All the reviews and the praise, and all you people following this story. It just makes me want to break into a spontaneous happy dance on a daily basis, and occasionally I give in to the urge.

Also, I would like to point out again that I am deliberately making Daryl a little softer than he is when he first appears in the series, but still with all the needed Daryl-ly essentials, at least I hope I am. I just feel like this information is somewhat relevant for this chapter.

**Disclaimer:** The Walking Dead is not mine. If it were Daryl would be having a lot of sexy time with Rebeca (who is mine, by the way)

**Shout-outs:**

**FrecklesTheWanderer** – I am glad you are enjoying the story, and I hope this update pleases you, and thank you for your lovely review. :)

**Leyshla Gisel** – Hmm you just might be headed slightly into the right direction. Daryl will be demanding answers anyway, so the truth will be revealed sooner rather than later, and hopefully it is worth your while. Awkwardness galore in this chapter. Enjoy.

**555LordBacon666** – I'd say they they have pretty even chances, but ultimately there can only be one winner. At least in this battle. But the score will be evened in the future, that much I can promise. Thank you so much for reviewing.

**WhatsGoingOn** – Ah Daryl and his impeccable way of wooing the ladies. Let's see where it gets him with Rebeca. I hope I can do the medical part of this story justice. I confess that I get most of my information from Wikipedia and Grey's Anatomy episodes, so I might be off on occasion. But I am trying my best to make this believable. If you drop a hint or two, if I get some things wrong, I'll be really grateful.

**Nik's stubble** – Your wish is my command and pleasure. As is your review. :)

**DarylLover4321** – Yes, I do imagine Daryl as a possessive, or at least 'somewhat' overprotective man, so he will certainly be staking claim. Once he realises he actually likes the woman. I wonder how long it takes him to do that... hohoho.

**YouKnowWho** – awh, that sucks, I wish you feel better soon. Don't worry, watching TWD will definitely take your mind off the illness. And thank you for your continued support, and your constant nagging for an update, when we both should be studying.

**P.S.:** you know what? The English language can go 'have coitus' with itself, I'm done with studying. ***throws notes and crawls into Norman Reedus' lap for comfort*** Did you know that the bitch has 4 types of passive? Not counting the exceptions. Forget "Soup is being cooked (by Mary)." that's for pussies, pseudo constructions, that's the real deal. My brain is exploding. Study English they said, it will be fun they said. ***picks notes back up and cries* **

* * *

**PLAY LIST: **

"**Girl on Fire**" - Alicia Keys

"**Leave a Scar**" - Marilyn Manson

"**Radioactive**" - Imagine Dragons

I am always in search of cool songs that I can use for an inspirational play list, so if you have any that in your opinion fit the tone of the story, you can drop the title in a review. :)

**x.X.x**

**CHAPTER IV. **

**Untold Stories, Painful Reminders, and Electricity  
**

She caved.

She caved like a schoolgirl with a crush, and she hated every second of it. She wanted to be stubborn, but at the end of the day she was a surgeon. She had taken an oath to save lives, and Daryl's life really was in danger. That was what she kept telling herself, to ease the sting of defeat, and although it may have been true, she knew she had given in for another reason.

It hit her, as she was glaring up at him, and into his god-awful blue eyes, that Daryl Dixon was good looking. Well, good looking was not the right word. Hot. That sounded better. Daryl Dixon was hot. But not the normal sort of hot that one saw in romantic movies, but rather the somewhat dangerous, intimidating, testosterone-oozing, _rough_ kind of hot. Admittedly, he was also a checkered-shirt-with-torn-off-sleeves wearing hillbilly, covered in dirt, leaves and dried blood; hell, the man toted a crossbow, for God's sake. But that didn't change the fact that he was appealing, and very muscular, and incredibly _hostile_, and that she was pressed flush against him.

It was probably her desire to stop touching him so closely that gave Rebeca the strength to drag him down the hallway and into Exam Room 2 with surprising speed, gurney be damned. That, and the fact that he did actually make a very solid attempt at walking. How he managed it, she didn't even want to know, but she was grateful for his effort.

She helped him sit down on the examination table, and took a rather quick step back to break the necessary contact between their bodies. She smoothed down the front of her scrubs to collect herself, trying not to look directly at him, for fear that there might be an awkward blush on her face. But that proved to be more difficult than she anticipated, because Daryl in a gynecological examination room was was one of the bizarres juxtapositions she had ever seen, and her curiosity was stronger than the awkwardness she was feeling.

"Ya just gonna stand there or ya gonna do something?" At the sound of Daryl's gruff demand, Rebeca realised she had been standing motionless for just a moment too long.

She was grateful for his interruption, because it awoke her from whatever daze their awkward closeness had caused, back into the role of a confident surgeon that suited her so well. She had never let a man distract her from her work before, regardless how appealing to the eye, and she was not about to start now. Especially not because of Merle Dixon's brother of all people. There was a better chance of hell freezing over, or the dead coming back to life.

"Do you always patronize people who are trying to save your life?" Rebeca asked, but instead of irritation there was a trace of humour in her voice.

Her attempt at lightening the mood was completely lost on Daryl. Not only did he seem completely unappreciative of her humor, but the scowl on his face deepened so severely it was almost impossible to distinguish his eyes under his furrowed brows.

"Aren't you a ray of sunshine," Rebeca muttered sarcastically, unable to help herself, then decided to focus on the task at hand; taking care of his injury. "I need to go scrub in before I go anywhere near that shoulder of yours. You'll need fluids, too. Did you take anything for the pain?"

He tried shrugging his shoulders nonchalantly, but decided against it because of the pain that shot through him. "Merle had a stash of pills."

"What pills?" Rebeca pressed. She could tell that he did not like her bombarding him with questions, even if they could save his life.

Daryl didn't say anything for a moment or two, and there was a tense pause. "Box said Vicodin."

Rebeca was expecting as much, but anticipating something did not make the situation easier.

Vicodin was an anticoagulant. It was the reason Daryl had lost so much blood, and could make extracting the arrow riskier than she had first thought. Of course Merle would stuff his brother full of narcotics. Vicodin was every addict's best friend.

"How many did you take?"

He frowned. "A few."

He didn't understand what all the fuss was about. The woman's face was carefully devoid of obvious emotion, but Daryl could tell that it was just a mask she had been taught to use, in order to not give away the severity of the situation. It pissed him off. He didn't need her pity, or her stupid worry. What he needed was for her to get the hell to taking care of his injury, and not coddle him like a child.

"What?" he exploded suddenly. "What the hell is yer problem?!"

Rebeca blinked.

Normally she was a fairly patient person, especially when it came to her patients, but something, well most things, about Daryl rubbed her the wrong way. He was being a rude, aggressive, volatile, uncooperative asshole. And Rebeca had a specific kind of temper for that sort of people.

Her eyes flashed dangerously. "Your attitude! That's my damn problem, Daryl. That, and the fact that your arrogant ass will probably bleed out on this table as soon as I pull that arrow out, because you stuffed yourself full of blood-thinners."

Her voice was deceivingly calm and even, but Daryl could see the anger brewing in her eyes, and it did nothing but fuel his own. He knew deep down that he wasn't really angry at her, but rather at himself for feeling strangely unnerved around her. Somehow the woman kept getting under his skin, and it was easier for him to despise her for it, than to be honest with himself.

"Ain't my attitude that's the problem." He chuckled spitefully. "Get over yerself, princess."

For a second Rebeca looked as if he had struck her. "What did you call me?"

"Ya heard me," Daryl growled, but didn't look at her. Her voice had come out in a quiet, shocked breath, and something in it told Daryl he had stepped over a line.

He was being a dick, but he couldn't stop himself. He was acting on autopilot. He hated people poking around his business, he hated people asking him questions and demanding answers, and he hated Rebeca's unexpected kindness. Yes, she was an annoying piece of work, but despite their argument she had done nothing but help him from the moment they met; even after what Merle did to the clinic. It riled him, and made him uneasy. He could handle hostility, he could handle banter, he preferred settling his arguments with his fists rather than talking. Those were things he knew, things he was used to. Kindness without expecting something in return wasn't.

"I have a name," Rebeca responded, but the fire in her voice was dying out.

"Don't care."

It was a lie. He did care that when she looked at him now the mischievous glint had disappeared from her eyes. He cared that she looked hurt at his words. He would never admit it, but he cared. And he hated that he did.

"Fine, _Daryl_," she deliberately put an emphasis on his name, and it actually made Daryl want to wince. "Whatever."

She turned around and stalked towards the door leading to the washroom before he could get a word out. Not that he would know what to say anyway.

Daryl had won the argument, but he felt damn shitty about it.

**x.X.x**

Rebeca's hands were furious as she scrubbed her underarms clean. She rubbed her skin so roughly it hurt, but she hardly even noticed. Her actions were robotic, practiced, she didn't think, she just acted. She needed to distract herself, to find a vent for her anger, but the only thing that kept ringing in her mind was the word princess.

Daryl had called her a princess.

His words felt like a slap in the face. They made Rebeca remember thing she wished she could forget, hit her in parts of her past she wouldn't touch with a ten foot pole, and Rebeca could not handle it. So she kept scrubbing, trying to ignore the sting that refused to leave her eyes.

There had only been one other person to call her that and Rebeca had never forgiven them. Not for the name, but for other things. She thought she had closed and nursed that wound, but she has obviously just barely stitched it shut, until Daryl came along and unknowingly ripped it open.

She knew her anger was misplaced, but she didn't care. She wanted Daryl out of her clinic and her life, along with Merle and his guns. But the only way she could do that was by helping him. She doubted the man had health insurance, and even if he did, he would die before reaching a hospital that would take care of him. Rebeca thought of the woman that died mere hours ago on the very same examination table that Daryl was sitting on now. Albeit under different circumstances, but she had already lost one patient too many today, she was not about to let history repeat herself.

Despite herself, she glanced up through the glass that separated the washroom from the exam room, and eyed Daryl's hunched form. His shoulders were slumped forward and there was a scowl furrowing his brow. Even from the distance, she could see the bags and circles under his eyes, and he was worryingly pale, especially in contrast to the specks of dirt on his face. He looked absolutely miserable, but he was conscious and judging by the fight they had, he still had energy to spare. That was good, because he was going to need it.

Maybe he had acted like an asshole, but he had also saved her life, and was probably the only one who could help her control Merle after he was clean and raving. Rebeca didn't like it, but it would be in her best interest to try and bury the hatchet with him. She could work out a truce, she reasoned. If she helped him, he would take Merle off her hands and make sure he didn't bother her again.

With a sigh that was both determined and resigned, Rebeca set down her brush and rinsed her hands with water one last time, before heading back to face the arrogant hunter.

**x.X.x**

As she stepped through the door Daryl tensed.

He knew she had been watching him through the tinted glass that separated the two rooms, and although he couldn't distinguish the look on her face, he knew she was pissed. If her exit had not made that clear, the way she clawed at her own arms as she washed them, certainly did.

She silently pulled on a set of white rubber gloves, and for a while seemed incredibly interested in her own fingertips. As they stood in awkward silence, Daryl expected her to explode, but instead she lifted her arms as if in surrender and took a deep breath to steady herself.

"Okay," she started, chewing on her lip. "Here's the thing. You don't have to trust me, and you don't have to like me, believe me," her lips twitched, "the feeling is mutual."

Daryl grunted. He could agree with that.

"But," Rebeca continued, grabbing a set of IV bags from a nearby cupboard and taking a step closer "I'm your only shot of getting that injury taken care of, and I need you to help keep Merle under control."

Daryl snorted. There was no way of controlling Merle. For someone claiming to have met his brother before, she should have know better.

"Ya met my brother?" he drawled sarcastically.

Rebeca grimaced. Daryl was right. "Fine, we can keep him locked up until he calms down. Just get him out of here?" She paused, looking up to meet his eyes. "Please?"

She wasn't asking much of him. Hell, she was asking the very thing he had planned on doing all along. Daryl could give her that. He nodded.

Despite her initial anger, a smile forced itself onto Rebeca's lips. "So, truce?"

Daryl studied her for a moment. She was standing right in front of him now, closer than he would have preferred her to, but he knew she would have to get much closer still, if she wanted to help him. He had no choice. And he was not about to risk her getting angry again. The smile suited her much better than a grimace.

He quickly pushed the last thought away, but didn't break eye contact. "Yeah, truce."

He knew he had said the right thing, when he caught the glimpse of her smile widening, as she turned away from him, to pull a chair from under the examination table. After she was comfortably seated, she made quick work of disinfecting a spot on his uninjured arm, before inserting the IV needle into his vein.

The contact caused a burning sensation, and Daryl actually welcomed the feeling. At least it was a different sort of pain than the one he had been in for the better part of the day.

"I'm giving you something to counteract this infection." Rebeca explained, more out of habit than because she needed to. "I'm sorry, we don't have an anesthesiologist here, and I can't really give you an epidural so-" She trailed off apologetically, knowing that he would be in pain, but Daryl caught the air of humor in her voice.

"Ain't a chick," he grunted, but his voice lacked its usual hostility.

Rebeca chuckled. "And here I was, about to check your cervix."

That earned her a glare, but Daryl knew he wasn't fooling anyone. He was actually somewhat enjoying their banter. What he wasn't enjoying as much, were her hands gently ghosting around the arrow protruding from his shoulder, before wrapping around the makeshift compress he had fastened around it.

As carefully as she could, Rebeca pulled the cloth away, and Daryl hissed in pain.

"Sorry," she winced. She did not envy him the pain. "Nice work with this though." she gestured at the bloody compress. Daryl grit his teeth as she proceeded to clean the area around the arrow with a damp piece of gauze, before applying a generous amount of iodine tincture to disinfect the wound.

"It probably saved you from bleeding out."

She was paying him a compliment. Sort of. And it made Daryl uneasy. Especially because of the argument they had before. He had acted like an asshole, and here she was making smalltalk. The thought that he had been the reason for her distress was nagging at his mind, and wouldn't leave him alone. He felt like he needed to say something.

"I know," he grumbled.

Rebeca snorted. "You really are arrogant do you know that?"

She had misunderstood. Daryl cursed internally.

"I know," he repeated, his voice low and raspy, "that ya got a name."

Rebeca's hand stopped mid-stroke on his shoulder. From the corner of his eye, Daryl could see her eyes widening in shock.

"What?"

It wasn't Rebeca's most elaborate response, but the surprise she felt at his words severely impaired her vocabulary.

"Ain't gonna repeat it." Daryl snapped edgily, and his eyebrows immediately pulled into a detached frown.

"N-no, it's okay. I heard you." Rebeca assured him quickly, but her voice was soft and breathless.

She had never expected to get an apology out of a man like Daryl Dixon, especially after the experience she had with his brother. But it quickly became clear to her that Daryl was very different from Merle. Regardless of how much he strove to be like him.

For the second time, Rebeca became acutely aware of his proximity. She tried to convince herself what she felt in the air between them, was just the tension that surrounded them from the moment they met; that she did not just feel an electric like current run through her at his words; that her cheeks were not heating up. No, it was just a shockingly realistic figment of her imagination.

She cleared her throat, to fill the awkward silence that hung between them, and focused back to his shoulder, with way too much enthusiasm. She needed to shift the attention from her to something else. _Anything_ else.

"So, why did he shoot you?"

That might not have been the right question, because Daryl's eyebrows immediately knit together and pulled into a defensive scowl. "Whadya mean?"

Rebeca swallowed nervously. She really wasn't in the mood for another fight. Not with her having to focus on not killing him.

"Well, I doubt someone else shot you with your own crossbow." she glanced at the weapon which she had leaned against the wall of the room, her voice coming out in a rush. "And there is no way you could have shot yourself. Not like this. And judging from what I know about Merle, I guess a fight was involved."

She gave a little shrug to indicate that she was merely speculating. She had her suspicions about what had happened, and she really was just curious. She wanted to distract him and she succeeded, but that wasn't the only reason she asked. She was about to extract the arrow, and it was going to hurt. She hoped having something to talk about would help take his mind off the pain, if even a little bit.

"I have two brothers," she explained. "It's how they solve most their problems."

Daryl guessed there really was no point in denying it. Besides, Rebeca didn't look like she was judging them, she just looked interested in what he had to say. "He scared away a deer. We got in a fight, started throwin' punches. I tackled him to the floor, crossbow got pinned between us, went off."

As he talked, he was looking over her shoulder to avoid eye contact, so he didn't see her wrap her hand around the hilt of the bolt. But he sure as hell felt it as she steadily and evenly pulled it out of his flesh.

A strangled growl wretched itself from his throat.

The pain was so intense it was bewildering. As far as injuries were concerned, Daryl had had more than his fair share, painful ones too, but they did not prepare him for this. He grit his teeth and clenched his hands into fists so tight his blunt fingernails dug into the flesh of his palm, then forcefully dragged a breath into his lungs.

His vision was still blurry when he felt something warm and tentative wrap around his left fist.

"It's okay. Hard part's done." Rebeca's voice was soft and sympathetic, as she tried to smooth his fingers from their tense state. If he were not injured, Daryl would have snapped at her for treating him like he was weak, but now her words felt comforting and soothing. "But you have to relax, if you keep clenching your muscles you will increase the bleeding."

She had been holding a clean compress to his newly reopened wound, fearing that the Vicodin he had taken would cause him to start bleeding uncontrollably. But it didn't. She had the wound under control, and the biggest possible crisis had been averted.

She felt Daryl slowly begin to relax under her touch, and that was when it occurred to her that she was basically holding his hand. She released him as if she had been burned, but she still felt it. This time she could not dismiss it as her mind playing tricks on her, because she actually felt sparks flying across her skin at their contact.

She stood there in awkward silence of the second time in the last ten minutes, desperately racking her brain for a response, while busying herself with preparing a surgical needle and the thread she needed to sew his wound shut. Since mentioning Merle had worked last time, she decided to go with that.

"You know, for a racist bastard, Merle sure doesn't discriminate when it comes to shooting people," she commented.

"Yeah, I guess." Daryl snorted. He winced as he felt the needle pierce his skin, but otherwise didn't show any signs of discomfort. "How ya know him anyway?"

At his question Rebeca looked up from his shoulder. She laughed and the mischievous glint in her eyes returned. "Why? What did he say to you?"

"Nothin'. Was just a question."

"I'm hurt. I thought he would have at least bragged about me a little." Rebeca pursed her lips, obviously enjoying some private joke, and it wasn't until Daryl's eyebrows shot up incredulously that she realised how her sentence could have been interpreted.

When she did, she nearly choked on her own saliva. "Oh, no! Oh, God no! I didn't mean... Not like that!"

Darryl had never seen a woman's face change colour as fast as Rebeca's did. He found himself enjoying the flush to her cheeks, especially how it spread slightly down her neck and the collarbone peeking out of her scrubs.

"You thought I~" she paused mid sentence. "With Merle? Ew."

"Ain't my business anyway." Daryl drawled, suddenly uncomfortable. Discussing his brother's sex life was not something he ever wanted to do with Merle, let alone a woman. Especially one who was currently stitching him up.

"It was nothing like that, I promise," Rebeca assured him after she collected herself. "It's a funny story though."

She made one final stitch, before cutting the thread and putting away her equipment. "But right now, you need to rest, and I have patients to see."

**x.X.x**

Well this took forever. Exams have been horrible to me, and they will not be over until the middle of June, so you will have to be patient with me. I will do my best to update though, I promise. I keep squirming because I think it's **too OOC**, but I still kind of like the chapter.

**So what did you think? Too sappy? And why was Rebeca so upset when Daryl called her princess? Who is the person she is so angry at? And did Daryl feel some sparks too?** Who knows. Well I do. But you have to keep reading to find out.

So, what happens now? Any guesses? Thoughts? **Every time you leave a review a walker dies, so help the survivors out.** :)


	5. Coffee, Dwarves, and Ink

I am** so sorry for the delay**. I had 4 exams this week, so there was no way I could have posted this earlier. Anyway, I am so happy that so many of your are reviewing and following this story. **So thank you so very much! Shout-outs are at the end of the chapter**.

Also, **in the wake of recent ideas**, I have decided that **the 10-chapter-only rule I **had for this story** is annulled **as of now. I don't know exactly how long/short this will turn out to be, but I know that I want to include all the ideas I developed, and **make this romance/attraction simmer a while before it burns**.

**I own nothing**, apart from Rebeca, and the plot for this little fic.

* * *

**PLAY LIST: **

"**Replica**" - Sonata Arctica

"**Anna Molly"** - Incubus (I love how this is a pun meaning 'anomaly')

"**The Fighter**" - Gym Class Heroes

**P.S.:** I kept thinking, when I played around with the contents of the following chapters... Would Daryl even have a phone? I mean, I know we are living in the 21st century and all that, but it just seems like all he needs is the **crossbow, a knife and a breeze in his hair**. Ha, that sounded a bit poetic. But anyway, it was just a funny thought I had, and I might play with it in future chapters. **Hint hint**.

* * *

**x.X.x**

**CHAPTER V. **

**Coffee, Dwarves, and Ink**

Rebeca was exhausted. Her eyes burned, her muscles ached, and her stomach kept growling incessantly. She couldn't remember the last time she ate a proper meal, and not something that came out of a microwave, but she was too tired to even hold a spoon to her mouth, let alone prepare something edible. So she decided on her only remaining alternative.

Coffee.

She stared at the electric kettle, as if hoping glaring would help the water boil faster, yet to no avail. The stubborn thing refused to cooperate, and it wasn't the only one. So far every single constituent of her day had been antagonistic.

First she had lost a patient, and was now left with their newborn baby until Child Protective Services got around to doing their job – which due to the notoriety of the clinic could take days – then she almost got shot by a redneck, only to be saved by another, and have him snap at her while she tried to save his life. Afterwards she spent the rest of the day running between her remaining patients, and checking up on his stupid sleeping ass because he refused to get better.

As far as days at the office went, this was not one of her favorites.

"C'mon," she begged the kettle quietly, letting her head drop into her hands, as she leaned against the counter in the clinic's tiny kitchen.

Great, the events of the day had reduced her to talking with technology.

"You know, domestic appliances usually work better when they are plugged in," a voice suggested from the door.

Rebeca jumped.

"Jesus, Irena," she muttered, then turned around to face the woman. "Don't sneak up on me like that."

The nurse's lips pulled into a somewhat wry smile. "I knocked."

"Oh" was all that came to Rebeca's mind. She hadn't heard a thing. She really was out of it. She fished for the plug, before popping it into the nearest socket, and was rewarded with the familiar simmering sound, as the water began heating up.

She nearly moaned with relief. She would be having coffee after all.

She grabbed the kettle after the water finished boiling, and poured some into the large mug she had previously filled with instant coffee. She produced a spoon and some sugar from a cupboard, then retrieved a carton of milk from the mini-fridge. With a grateful sigh, she added an abundance of both ingredients into her beverage. Hearing Irena's footsteps approach from the door, she looked up from stirring her coffee to appraise her.

Irena's face was disapproving.

"You look tired."

"It's been a long day," Rebeca acknowledged, feeling uncomfortable under the nurse's concerned stare.

"I suppose it has." Irena allowed. "But that's not why I'm worried. When was the last time you had a full night's sleep?"

Rebeca refused to meet her friend's eyes. "I don't know. A while?"

She shrugged. "I'm fine."

A soft, airy huff escaped Irena's lips. It almost sounded like a sad laugh. "We both know that's a lie."

"Why ask then?" Rebeca inquired, taking a slow sip of her coffee. There was no hostility in her voice, just a hint of irony.

The nurse's lips quirked upwards, but the smile did not reach her eyes. "Somebody has to keep an eye on you."

"Irena-" Rebeca started, but the woman interrupted her.

"No," she said gently, yet firmly. "You need to listen to me. You are an incredible surgeon. God knows you are too good to waste your time here, but you do, and you fight for your patients. Every single one of them." A shadow crossed her face. "Even if they might be dangerous and unpredictable."

Rebeca tried to say something, but Irena wouldn't let her. "But you are horrible at taking care of yourself. And if you keep this up you will work yourself to the bone."

"I am good at my job," Rebeca said, struggling to keep her voice even. "You said so yourself." She squared her jaw, her fingers tightening around the handle of her mug. "I just suck at everything else."

This time, the smile did reach Irena's eyes. "We both know that's a lie, too."

Rebeca didn't answer. She kept her eyes carefully on the rim of her mug, still avoiding eye contact.

"You can't keep hiding from your own life, Rebeca. You can't run from yourself indefinitely."

Irena had always known how to read her. But Rebeca didn't feel like an open book as much as an exposed nerve. With everyone else, she could escape to humour, banter, or her quick wit, confuse them, so they didn't know what she was really thinking. She was good at that. It had always been both her most attractive feature and her best defense mechanism. But she could never hide from the older woman, they had been friends for too long. So she didn't even try.

"It's been four years, five months and two weeks. Not that anyone's counting." Rebeca bit our bitterly. It was not the first time they were having this conversation. "I guess you could say I am giving it a pretty decent shot."

Irena's eyes were gentle. "I just hope you'll be ready when it catches up."

Rebeca's lips twitched humorlessly around the rim of her mug. "I guess we'll see."

Her comment was followed by a tense silence, as both women didn't know what to say. Eventually, Irena sighed quietly, wanting to change the subject.

"Will he pull through?"

The pressure between them dissipated, and now that the focus had shifted from her to Daryl, Rebeca could feel her stiff shoulders relax.

"He's resting." she said, but her voice was laced with concern. "He's not responding well to the medication. The infection is pretty bad, and his fever isn't dropping."

"Give it a few more hours." Irena tried to placate.

"I'll go check on him again in a few minutes." Rebeca lifted the cup to her lips, taking a long sip. "I really don't want to be responsible for killing off Merle Dixon's brother."

Irena's lips pressed together into a thin line. "He doesn't look like someone who goes down easy."

Most people would not pick up on the nurse's disapproval, but Rebeca wasn't most people.

She took a deep breath. "Look, I know you do not approve of me doing this-"

"You could lose your license." Irena's words came out with a rush.

Rebeca breathed a laugh. "Says the woman who claims I work too much."

Irena's eyes narrowed. With her hands on her hips and the crow's feet lining her eyes, she reminded Rebeca oddly of her mother. "This is no laughing matter."

"No," Rebeca sobered. "I suppose it isn't." She paused. "But if I hadn't helped them, nobody would have."

"Maybe it would have been for the best."

The mug nearly slipped between Rebeca's fingers in shock. "You can't really mean that?!"

Irena regretted the words as soon as they left her lips. She had been scared and angry, yes, but with all her years of experience she could tell when people were desperate. Merle Dixon had been desperate; and desperation was a powerful motivator.

"No, no I don't." she shook her head, appalled. "They just..."

"They don't look like the usual bunch, do they?" Rebeca agreed, gently laying a hand on the nurse's shoulder. Her lips tugged into a smile. "And don't worry, I've contemplated killing Daryl today, too."

Irena's eyebrows shot up. Shock laced with humour. "How so?"

"Pissed me off." Rebeca elaborated curtly, setting down her empty mug on the counter with slightly more force than was necessary.

"I can't imagine how." Irena was teasing now. "He seems like a lovely southern gentleman."

Rebeca shot her friend a look that screamed _'Really?!'_.

"He's a redneck," she seethed. "A foul mouthed, dirty, volatile redneck. And an asshole. Frankly, his only redeeming quality is his muscular arms."

"Is it?" Irena chuckled, and Rebeca could feel blood burning in her cheeks.

"Shut. Up." Rebeca groaned, but the words only reminded her of the hillbilly in question. Hadn't he told her to shut her trap at least thrice in only a few hours?

"Who knows," Irena reasoned. "Maybe he has some more redeeming qualities buried deep down underneath the hostility."

"The Dwarves of Moria couldn't dig deep enough to find that mythical treasure." Rebeca deadpanned.

"Doesn't take a dwarf," Irena commented knowingly. Her smooth and almost suggestive tone was turning Rebeca's cheeks scarlet.

"What about him being a rude, stubborn, insufferably asshole didn't you understand?!" Rebeca demanded.

"Reminds you of anyone you know?" Irena's eyes were sparkling, as she seized up the young surgeon.

Rebeca sputtered. "I am _nothing_ like the Dixon brothers!"

"No, not like the Dixon brothers." Irena agreed, and her voice lost some of its mischief. "But the look you have in your eyes when you think that no one is looking, reminds me of that of Daryl Dixon."

Rebeca's lips parted in shock. She scrambled for a retort, but nothing came to mind.

Luckily, Irena took pity on her "I'm heading home, but something tells me you're staying the night."

It was a statement not a question, but Rebeca nodded mutely.

Irena turned on her heels, then headed for the door of the kitchen. Halfway across the room, she looked over her shoulder. "Rebeca?"

The young woman's head shot up in response, her yes still wide from shock.

"Get some sleep." The nurse smiled. Then without another word she exited the kitchen, leaving Rebeca standing in the middle of the room.

Rebeca sank into the nearest chair, aghast and speechless.

_What had just happened? _

**x.X.x**

"C'mon, Daryl," Rebeca huffed, strain evident in her voice. "Work with me here."

She knew he couldn't hear her, but she thought a little encouragement never hurt anyone.

He was sleeping, but it was not the kind of slumber that left you refreshed and recovered. Rather, it was deep and restless. The fever caused by his infection was raging through his veins, making his body glisten with sweat. Heat was rolling off his body in waves, and Rebeca was becoming more and more concerned.

She changed the IV bag, before pressing her hand against his forehead. She knew it was a stupid gesture, and she felt like a mother taking care of a child, but the action came all by itself.

Irena's words lingered in her mind, and they bothered her. Because right now Daryl looked little like the angry man she had treated the day before. He looked almost vulnerable, and although she was merely making sure he survived the night, Rebeca felt like she was intruding. Like she should not be seeing him like this without his permission.

If she were only Rebeca, she would have left, and gently closed the door behind her. But the surgeon in her would not let her. He was her patient, and she would be damned if she let anyone else die on her. Redneck or not.

She had to get his fever down fast. She no longer had the luxury of waiting for the stronger drugs to kick in. He was 105 degrees and if the fever got any higher, Rebeca dreaded to think of the consequences.

Without a moment's hesitation, Rebeca was in motion. She rushed to the nearest supply closet and grabbed a large basin and a handful of towels. She jogged to the kitchen and emptied the entire ice-cube contents of the fridge into the basin, then filled it with cold water.

If she were in the hospital in Atlanta, this would have been done in a tub, with a conscious patient, but here she did not have that luxury. Besides, Daryl struck her as a man who preferred the MacGyver method to anything 'fancy', as he had put it.

Excellent, now she was starting to think like him. She really needed to get some sleep.

She burst through the door of the on-call room, where she had put Daryl, due to there being no other rooms available, basin and towels in hand. She set it down next to the bed, and pulled the covers away from Daryl's sleeping form. The sheet was sticky with sweat, as was Daryl's clothing, and Rebeca needed it all out of the way.

His checkered shirt was already in tatters, since most of it had been used to stop the bleeding, but Rebeca still struggled as she tore it off from his body. Daryl twitched, and Rebeca jumped back.

She was afraid he would wake up and attack her due to his delirious state. But he didn't even stir.

Breathing a sigh of relief, Rebeca returned to the bedside, finally taking a good look at the sleeping man next to her. She had suspected that his torso was just as defined as his arms, and she was not disappointed. Daryl was muscular but lean, and even though his skin was covered in specks of dirt and grime, and soaked in sweat, she could still make out the lines of his chest and the tan of his skin.

That was also when she noticed the scars.

Her breath caught as she took in the angry, aggressive lines that mapped his front. She could not see his back, but she suspected she would find more if she looked.

She wouldn't, of course. This was personal. This was something Daryl would not want her to see, she knew that much. She had unknowingly intruded on a secret and she felt sick.

The justification that she was only doing this to save his life did little to ease the sting in her chest, but she had no time to placate her own mind. This was not about her. This was about keeping Daryl alive. She would deal with damage control later.

She dipped the towels into the basin, and hissed as the ice cold water hit her fingertips. Daryl was not in for a picnic.

She wrung out any excess water, then laid the cloth across Daryl's chest.

His eyes snapped open, and faster than lightning, his large hands wrapped around her wrists.

The look in his cobalt irises was crazed, aggressive, and frightening. His grip hurt.

Rebeca struggled. "Daryl!"

It did her no good. Even in his weakened state, Daryl was much stronger than her.

"Daryl, let go! You're hurting me." Rebeca was panicking, and it showed in her voice. He was crushing her wrists. She was sure she would have bruises. If he didn't kill her in his shock first.

A low growl resonated deep within his chest.

She needed to reach him, calm him down, but she couldn't find her voice. She stared into his eyes, chest heaving with fear, for what seemed like hours, when it must have been seconds.

Rebeca forced a ragged breath into her lungs, then willed her coiled muscles to relax.

"Daryl," she said softly, trying not to let the pain she was feeling show. "It's me. It's Rebeca. You need to calm down."

His grip loosened, and a relieved breath _wooshed_ past Rebeca's lips. "It's okay. You're okay."

He blinked, and the dangerous haze left his eyes. He was awake.

It only took Daryl a second to realise what was going on. The stupid woman had sneaked up on him in his sleep. Daryl was certain she must have a death wish.

"Jesus, woman" he breathed huskily, releasing her hands. "I could have killed ya."

Rebeca believed him. But instead of being terrified, she felt awfully calm. His brute sincerity was oddly soothing.

"You have to lay back down," she said, using her freed hands to gently push him down. "I need to get your fever under control. You're burning up."

With a groan, Daryl settled back against the mattress. Along with his fully conscious state, the awareness of pain was also creeping up on him. Truth be told, he felt like he had been hit by a bus.

"You alright?" Rebeca asked, without the annoying concern that usually laced her voice.

He managed a stiff groan, watching as she picked up the wet towel his quick movements had landed on the floor. She dipped it back into the basin, and quickly wrung it out, before spreading it out between her hands, and leaning over him.

"This is going to be colder than my ex's heart." Rebeca cautioned, inclining her head towards the towel. "Don't say I didn't warn you."

Daryl let out something between a snort and a chuckle, bracing himself.

As soon as the wet cloth hit his exposed skin, Daryl flinched. And that was when it occurred to him that he was shirtless. Panic swelled in his chest, suddenly looking for something to cover himself, although most of his torso was already covered with the towel.

He jerked, and his entire body responded painfully. He hurt all over. But that meant little compared to the fact that Rebeca had seen him. Exposed and shamed. And now he would have to face the pity in her eyes.

"Hey, hey," Rebeca's voice was no longer soft, but authoritative. "You'll rip your stitches."

She gripped his shoulders, careful of his sutures, and leaned into them with just enough weight to keep him still, but not cause him pain.

Daryl growled. He wanted her to stop touching him. To stop looking at him. To just disappear. But she was right. If he ripped his stitches, she would have to re-do them. And Daryl could not handle that, could not handle her. Not after she had seen him at his worst. His only consolation was that she had not seen his back, but that meant very little, given the current situation.

"Everything alright?"

He refused to meet her eyes, not wanting to know what he would find there, so he just stared at the ceiling, seething.

The sound of droplets hitting the surface of the water told him that Rebeca was dipping another towel into the basin, and soon enough he felt her press the ice cold material to his neck.

He tried to move away from her instinctively, not wanting her to touch him, but her hands were insistent.

Finally, she huffed. "I am trying here, Daryl."

At Rebeca's snide remark, Daryl's eyes darted to hers. He was braced for the pity, for an apology he didn't want to hear or accept, but what he saw was a challenge.

She was not treating him like a broken toy. In fact she was treating him with as much sass and tact as she had when they met. Maybe she had not seen anything after all.

Daryl felt his shoulders relax; the towel she was brushing against his neck no longer felt like a noose; and the thought of her touching him due to medical necessity was no longer stifling.

"Thank you." Rebeca said, but her words had a sarcastic undertone.

Daryl grumbled. He didn't have the strength to fight. His mind was growing foggy, and with the surge of adrenalin his sudden awakening had caused gone, the extent of his injuries and his exhaustion was catching up him. His eyelids felt heavy.

Vaguely, he felt Rebeca's hand press to his forehead, but he was too exhausted to move away. Her hand felt nice and cool against his heated skin.

"I think your fever is dropping," he heard her murmur, and he could detect the relief in her voice. Her hand on his forehead was replaced by a smaller towel, and the cold helped ease some of Daryl's headache.

His eyes flickered at the ceiling one last time, only to be met with Rebeca's face. She was leaning over him to check his bandage, and the smile on her face was soft and triumphant.

"I think you'll pull thought." She announced.

Daryl scoffed. "Ya doubt that?"

"Don't insult me," Rebeca shot back, but he could tell she was bluffing. His lips twitched once.

There was a silence, and Daryl felt sleep taking him once more, only this time it felt calmer, less feverish and stressful.

Just as he was drifting off, he could hear Rebeca's quiet yet light voice add.

"Nice ink, by the way."

**x.X.x**

Long ass chapter is long. But I think this one is my favourite so far. I loved writing the interaction between Irena and Rebeca. I hope you like the little hints regarding Rebeca's past I dropped in. I wanted to go into some character development, so tell me what you think.

Gasp. **What will Daryl do now that he knows Rebeca's seen his greatest secret? What happened to Rebeca four years, five months, and two weeks ago? Will Irena have a role to play in Rebyl's relationship?** (I love this ship name!) **Will I add more Lord of the Rings references? And where the hell is Merle?** Stay tuned to find out.

**SHOUT-OUTS: **

**Nik's Stubble **– I'm sorry it took forever to update. I hope the lengthiness of this chapter makes up for it.

**Leyshla Gisel** – you are really good at this guessing game. I'll tell you this much: one of your guesses is right. But you'll have to wait and see which one.

**Guest** – thank you so much, anonymous reader.

**shika93** – thank you.

**DarylLover4321** – there will be more and more of it, so stay tuned.

**YouKnowWho** – it makes me so happy when my friends take the time to read my stories. And I'm so proud I made you into a TWD fan! Muahaha one of us, one of us!

**WhatsGoingOn** – I already sent you a PM with a more extensive answer, but thank you so much for all your insight. And here is some Darca for you! Hope you enjoy.

** . **– I absolutely love your review, I hope I stressed that enough in my PM. I feel just so touched that you would take the time to write such a thorough and lovely review. It makes me smile like the Cheshire cat.

**ChooseJoy** – like I said, heart attack. I am such a fangirl. I hope you enjoy the rest of the story as well. I really feel like I need to up my game now that you're reading this. Happy reading, and I hope I do your praise justice.

**I love reviews almost as much as I adore Norman Reedus. So please?**


	6. Abdominals, Addicts, and Cover Stories

Hello everyone. **I am so overwhelmed by the love this story is receiving**. The follows, favourites, and reviews really make me feel appreciated. **So, if I may be so selfish, please keep them coming**. Especially the **reviews**, because they give me the feedback that really encourages me to write more (and update faster). **Shoutouts** are at the end of the chapter.

**I cannot promise an update next week**, I will try, but my exams need to be my top priority. To make up for it, **there are some goodies in this chapter** that I hope you will appreciate, it is also a bit more humorous than the rest have been so far. So, without further ado, **here's Rebyl**.

**P.S.:** I do not own TWD. On an unrelated note: there will be another TWD character making an appearance in this story. Care to guess who?

* * *

**PLAY LIST:**

"**Beg**" - Evans Blue (I haven't listened to this song in so long, but something about the lyrics resonates with Daryl for me)

"**Under The Sun**" - Charyl Cole

"**Shitload of Money**" - Sonata Arctica

**x.X.x**

**CHAPTER VI.**

**Abdominals, Addicts, and Cover Stories**

Daryl groaned.

He was still somewhere between being awake and asleep, and the state was making his mind foggy ; his thoughts scattered and elusive. Eventually his cognitive abilities became stronger, and he slowly started to regain consciousness. There was a throbbing in his temples, and he worried that if he opened his eyes it would develop into the mother of all headaches, and he felt both uncomfortably hot and cold at the same time, meaning that his fever had not yet broken. His throat was dry, and the arm where the IV needle was embedded into his skin felt sore from having to hold it still. As for other discomforts, Daryl's mind was coming short of profanities that could describe his shoulder, so he settled for glaring at the ceiling.

That was when he noticed the very physical feeling of a weight pressing onto his abdomen.

Acting purely on his hard-wired instinct to protect himself from any intrusion, Daryl flinched. The weight on his chest shifted, and a quiet murmur reached Daryl's ears.

Daryl's head shot up, seeking the origin of the sound, and when he located it, his eyes bulged in shock.

Rebeca's head was resting on his chest. He could see her shoulders moving with deep, steady breaths, and one of her hands was clutching the wrinkled sheets by his hips. The other was draped over him, partly serving as her pillow, along with his abdominal muscles. Her hair was fanned out around her, the loose, disheveled tendrils ticking Daryl's exposed skin, and every time she exhaled, gentle gusts of air ghosted across his chest. Her lips were slightly parted and brushing the area just above his bellybutton.

Daryl stiffened; every muscle locking down, and coiling like a snake ready to strike. He was frozen in place, and she was all but snuggled against him, although the rest of her body was seated in the chair next to his bed.

After a couple of consternated breaths, the first emotion that he registered was panic, then came the anger and annoyance. He shifted, trying to jostle the woman awake. He wasn't gentle either.

"Ay, wake up!"

The movement caused Rebeca to stir. She squeezed her eyes shut tight, then buried her face further into his chest.

Daryl stared, unable to look away, and he could feel the tips of his ears heating up.

"Lemme sleep," she groaned incoherently, and Daryl could feel the vibrations of her voice resonate through him.

"Fuck. Git off me," Daryl commanded hoarsely, trying to ignore the rush of heat to his stomach. He was still somewhat disoriented from sleep, and his body ached when he moved, but he struggled to slip from under her.

His sudden, erratic movements effectively put an end to her slumber. She squinted at him through one eye, while rubbing the other with the back of her palm, trying to make sense of what was going on.

"Wha?" She drawled languidly.

"Ya deaf? I said get off me, lady!" Daryl demanded.

It took a second or two for Rebeca to register his words, then the staggering realisation that she was nuzzling Daryl Dixon's chest weaseled itself into her mind. Hell, she could feel the rippling muscles of his abdomen pressed against her cheek.

Rebeca pulled away so quickly she almost believed she had developed superhuman speed during the night.

"Oh, fuck!" she exhaled. "Oh shit."

Her heart was pounding loudly in her chest. It effectively erased all her remaining symptoms of sleepiness. What it couldn't erase was the remainder of Daryl's body heat that was still seeping through the front of her scrubs.

A silence hung in the air between them, and Rebeca was certain Daryl could hear the way her heart was pumping against her ribs. The air in the room felt thick, stifling, and Rebeca found herself starting to sweat beneath her thin layers of clothing. She felt like she should say something, but the vivid blue of Daryl's shocked eyes scattered any chances of a coherent reply.

"Oops?"she offered weakly and breathlessly, and immediately the shocked expression on Daryl's face shifted to a glare.

The trance broken, Rebeca's vocal cords recalled their primary functions, and her memory jumped back to the way Daryl had shaken her off.

"Wait," she started. "you didn't just call me lady, did you?"

"What's that matter?" Daryl huffed, avoiding eye contact. A loose strand of black hair escaped from behind Rebeca's ear, and was dangling across her face. It bugged him, and made him wanted to push it away. He didn't.

"Well, I kind of drooled on you a little, and we're still not on a first name basis, so I guess my people skills really suck." Rebeca blurted, before she could think of filtering her words. "By the way, your chest is really hard, you know that?"

Daryl reeled. If there was ever the semblance of a Casanova gene in the Dixon family, it was clearly passed on to Merle, as tragic as that was; and Daryl was fully aware that his interests were not very weaker-sex-oriented. Nevertheless, Daryl was a man. And when a woman used the words _suck_ and _hard_ in the same sentence, in combination to where her lips had just been, Daryl's imagination shifted into overdrive.

It didn't help that the image of her nuzzled against his chest was burned into his mind, and that he could still feel the tingling warmth her proximity had left behind.

Daryl's stupefied silence gave Rebeca just enough time to realise what she had said, and for the mortification to set in.

"Oh, God!" she moaned, dropping her forehead to her flattened palms. "_Oh God! _Sorry, that came out wrong."

"Just quit yer yappin', will ya?" Daryl croaked out, his mouth gone dry. Quickly he focused on bringing the covers up around him, to hide most of his chest, and create a barrier between himself and Rebeca.

"I said I was sorry!" Rebeca exclaimed, combing through her hair with shaky fingers.

Her cheeks burned with embarrassment, and as she caught a glimpse of his taken aback expression, she felt a pang of hurt added into the mix. Was it really that bad that she accidentally fell asleep on him?

Yes, okay, maybe it was. But she had been so exhausted, and by the time she put away the basin and the towels, she could hardly keep her eyes open. She told herself she was just going to rest for a second, and then she was gone. And somehow she must have slumped forward and onto his chest.

Sure, it was awkward and unprofessional, but was it really necessary for him to look so put off? She knew her appearance would never win her Miss America, but she had thought she was at least somewhat pleasant to look at.

Apparently Daryl begged to differ.

"Would you quit looking so damn disgusted?!" she hissed, and hated the fact that her voice wavered at the end.

Daryl blinked. Disgusted? Was that what he looked like? Because it sure as hell wasn't what he was feeling. Maybe he was covering it up too well. He wanted to say something that would rile her, get her off his case, but the downright insulted look in her eyes stopped him. Normally he would have thought his sullen expression an advantage, because it helped keep the few women who had shown interest in him, and annoyed him in the process, at bay, but right now he couldn't afford to hurt Rebeca's goddamn feelings. Which was easier said than done, because she seemed to get pissed off every time he opened his mouth – hell if he understood women. Still, he needed her to tell him where Merle was, so that he could get the hell out of the clinic.

At least that's what he told himself, as he steadied himself and took a deep breath in attempt to slow his heart-rate back to normal .

"Aw, hell, woman," he mumbled, feeling his chest constrict self-consciously as he forced the words out. "I ain't disgusted."

He didn't look at her, keeping his eyes on the sheet that was covering him instead, but he could still imagine the look on her face as she took in his words.

"Oh," he heard her breathe, and he braced himself for the onslaught of prodding questions that usually followed every time he opened his mouth around a woman.

But it never came.

"Okay then," Rebeca added casually. She sounded like that was the end of the conversation, and Daryl's brow furrowed suspiciously. There was no way she was letting him off the hook that easily. Not that he had a lot of experience in that department, but he knew enough not to trust a woman when she sounded that smug.

"What? That it?" he said, some of his frustration creeping its way into his voice, making him sound angrier than he actually was. "Ya ain't gonna bitch about it?"

Rebeca grinned.

Seeing Daryl Dixon pushed out of his comfort zone, and squirming under her gaze was fun. More fun than she had in a while, actually.

"Why would I bitch about it?" She asked innocently, before her grin turned into a sly smile. "I just made it into the spank-bank."

Daryl sputtered. He could feel his face heating up, and rage mixed with humiliation tense his muscles.

"I thought I told ya to shut yet trap?!" He ground his teeth together almost painfully as he barked out the words through his tense jaw.

He half expected her to recoil with fear, but what he got in response was first a quiet chuckle, followed by peals of laughter.

"You should have seen face!" Rebeca gasped in between laughter, but then she caught a glimpse of Daryl's face expression. It was murderous... and a little hurt. The last emotion was well covered up, but at the trace of it, Rebeca sobered.

"Jeez, Dixon, would you lighten up?" she said, exasperated, and for some reason Daryl noticed that was the first time she didn't address him by his name. "At least Merle knew how to take a joke."

Daryl was about to tell her that the only joke Merle could take was a racist one that came from his own mouth, but the mention of his brother effectively diverted his train of thought.

"Where the hell is my brother anyway?" he demanded.

"I have him locked up in an empty supply room, out by the security guard's office." Daryl's eyebrows shot up and Rebeca chewed on her lip. "I checked up on him during the night, and he was still out. You must have hit him pretty hard."

Daryl snorted. "Had to. Bastard wouldn't have stayed down otherwise."

"The amount of love in this relationship is staggering." Rebeca noted sarcastically.

Daryl rolled his eyes. "'s he okay?"

Rebeca nodded. "Won't be for much longer though. Withdrawal is a bitch."

Daryl muttered something that sounded suspiciously like '_Serves him right_', then moved to push his covers away and attempted to get up.

"What do you think you're doing?" Rebeca demanded.

"What does it look like I'm doin'? I'm getting' my brother and then I'm getting the hell out of here." His eyes searched the room for his crossbow. "'s what ya wanted wasn't it?"

Rebeca exhaled in frustration. "Has the fact that you are sick completely eluded your mind?"

"I'm fine." Daryl shot back, trying not to hiss at the pain he was feeling.

"The last time you said that I had to drag your ass off the floor." Rebeca's patience was wearing thin. Not that she had that big an amount of it when it came to the younger Dixon in the first place.

Scowl firmly in place, Daryl opened his mouth for a retort, but Rebeca wouldn't let him get a word in. She didn't have time to tiptoe around him, and if she let him gain momentum, she wouldn't have a shot in hell of stopping him.

"I don't know much about hunting deer, but I know medicine. And right now, you are in no shape to be walking around. You still have a fever, you barely just started responding to the meds, and that wound needs to be redressed." She moved in front of him, as if that would prevent him from moving if he wanted to.

"Besides, you're no good to Merle now. Until all those drugs are out of his system he's going to be even more of an irritable asshole than usual." Rebeca's voice was a little gentler now. "Look, I said I wanted him out of here, and I do, but I'm a doctor, and until you are better neither of you are going anywhere."

Daryl considered that for a moment. He knew without ever doing drugs that withdrawal made you sick as a dog, and although Merle was family, he was also the asshole who shot him. Daryl was not about to hold his hand and murmur lullabies.

"Ya lock him up good?"

Rebeca's lips tugged into a wry and somewhat rueful smile. "Handcuffs and everything."

Daryl exhaled loudly and settled back against the bed. "Good. Anything' less and he woulda chewed through it by now."

"So," Rebeca eyed him warily. "Do we still have a truce?"

Daryl didn't answer, but he didn't disagree either.

"I'll take that as a yes, then?" Rebeca looked suspicious.

He grimaced. "Yeah, yeah. Damn. Ya happy now?"

Rebeca looked like she wanted to add something, but she hesitated.

"What?" Daryl snapped. "Just say what's on yer damn mind."

Despite his anger, Rebeca's lips twitched. She was beginning to understand Daryl's way of communication. He saw offense as his best defense, but there was more behind his shouting and the tough guy bravado.

"If I say it, will you remain zen?" she teased, earning her another not-so-subtle eye-roll.

"Ain't making any promises," he grumbled, but Rebeca caught the upwards tug of his lips.

"Fair enough," Rebeca allowed, leaning back in her chair. "Okay, seriously now. I need you to promise you will not play tough guy with me." Daryl's eyes darkened, but Rebeca didn't skip a beat. "Look, I know you're a tough ass, you proved that when you walked in here with an injury people could have died in the ER from. But being tough doesn't mean you don't need help from time to time, so I need you to take it easy for the next couple of days. Can you do that?"

Daryl glared, but didn't dignify that with a response.

Rebeca sighed. "I'm not asking, Daryl."

He huffed, but the scowl on his face looked resigned. "Yeah, I know."

Smiling, Rebeca held out her hand. "We are shaking on it."

"Ya ain't askin' now either, are ya?"

"No."

Daryl squinted at her hand for a moment or two, then moved to engulf it with his own, and giving it a squeeze.

They only shook once, but as soon as his huge, calloused hand touched hers, Rebeca felt the familiar surge of electricity shoot through her. It was just like that time when they were in her exam room. When he released her, her hand tingled weirdly.

Trying to distract herself from her disconcerting feelings, Rebeca decided to address the issue that Irena had brought up the other day.

"Um," she cleared her throat awkwardly, causing Daryl to look up at her. "I don't think you know this, but I could kind of get in trouble for having you and your brother here."

Daryl snorted. "Yeah, I figured."

"No need to get sassy, redneck," Rebeca snapped halfheartedly. "I could lose my job, or even worse, my license. So we are going to have to come up with a cover story as to why you're hanging around."

"Say what ya hafta say," Daryl shrugged. "I don't care either way."

It took Rebeca a few seconds to realise he was not being antagonistic, but was actually saying he would cooperate.

"Did we just agree on something?" she asked, sounding more pleased than she needed to be. "That's a first."

"Nope," Daryl countered, but there was a slight grin on his lips as he said it. "First time was when we agreed we don't like each other."

Rebeca snorted. She did remember saying something along those lines to him when they first met.

"And then we sort of accidentally cuddled, and I'm not lying stabbed to death in a ditch somewhere." she couldn't resist teasing him a little. "I thought that meant we were past that?"

If Daryl had a response to that, he didn't get the chance to answer. Because at that point, the door of the on-call room swung open, revealing a young man in scrubs and a stethoscope around his neck.

His eyes widened as he took in the sight in front of him.

"Doctor Pierce? What the hell is going on here?" he asked, mouth open in shock.

Rebeca panicked. She hadn't had time to come up with a convincing cover story yet, and now the severity of her situation came crashing down on her with the force of a tidal wave.

She opened her mouth to say something, but no sound come out, so she closed it back up. She was screwed, and Daryl seemed too stunned to help.

"Who the hell is that?" the man demanded, and Rebeca knew she had to come up with an answer. Any answer.

Without thinking, she blurted out the first and only thing that came to her mind.

"He's my boyfriend."

* * *

Wheew, that was long. And probably OOC, but it was such fun to write.

**So, yeah, how screwed are Rebeca and Daryl? Who is the guy who just walked in on them? How will Daryl react to the B-word? **All that and more when Of Dixon Men... continues.

Also, I'm playing WD Survival Instinct. Pure Daryl goodness right here! If there are any gamers out there, try it out. It's awesome!

**SHOUT OUTS: **

**MollyMayhem84** – thank you so much for all your awesome reviews. I'm so glad you like this story so much, and I hope this chapter adds to your addiction. Wait... that sounded wrong. What I meant to say is, I hope I do your praise justice. And as for your story, I already have it on my to-read list. I will make my presence known when I read it. :)

**Iggy6** – welcome new guest reader. There will certainly be more LOTR references. HP ones too. And thank you for pointing out my typo. I will come around to fixing it as soon as possible. In the mean time, enjoy the next chapter.

**SarahFashion** – Here you go. Also thank you for the review.

**WhatsGoingOn** – as always, thank you for your awesome reviews, and for all the inside info into the medical world. I've had a fever of 105 before, and let me tell you it sucked. I was delirious. I only know that because others told me, I don't remember most of it anyway. So that's the temperature I used, because I kind of had the experience of it. I might have converted Celsius into Fahrenheit a little sloppily too. The American metric system is a little tricky for me. BUT here's Darca for you! I hope you enjoy

**WayPastMyBedtime** – it just saddens me when people don't know good literature and films. And ugh don't get me started on 50 Shades. It is not even good porn, and don't get me started on the grammar and the vocabulary and the awful repetitiveness, because we'll be here for a week. And omg you have no idea how badly I need coffee these days. It seems all I do is study. But I did manage to get this out, so I hope you enjoy. And don't worry, I will ALWAYS be here to give you a high-five for a LOTR reference!

**Leyshla Gisel **– I am obsessed with the ship name. I love how it sounds a little like 'rebel'. And there will be more mystery in the following chapters. Rebeca's past will be revealed, so stay tuned. In the mean time, I hope you enjoyed this chapter.

**ChooseJoy** – I owe you a huge hug for promoting my story. THANK YOU! And I totally agree, a character's baggage is one of the most important characteristics, I think. Because nobody is perfect, and I really don't want Rebeca to be too much of a Mary Sue. Hope you enjoy this, and don't worry there is more to come.

Again, **thank you all for your support**. I really enjoy getting notifications about people following and liking this story. It makes me so happy.

**So please, if you like this, leave me a review. It helps me update faster, and gives me the feedback I need to keep this story on the awesome level you readers deserve. **


	7. BonusFiller Chapter

**A/N:** If you people are trying to give me a **love-induced heart attack** **PLEASE continue**. Shout outs are at the end of the chapter.

**Disclaimer:** TWD belongs to its respectful and genius owners. I just like to make Daryl do fun stuff for my own amusement. **Rebeca, and any other OCs are mine though**.

**P.S.:** oh my GOD! I know this is mixing fandoms, but seriously are there any **Whovians out here too?** Like I need a hug, bad. I just started with the series and I finished watching **The Journey's End**, and am **still sobbing from Doomsday**. Sweet Jesus the **feels.** I have never shipped ANYTHING in my life with as much devotion as I as of now do **Rose/10th Doctor. And I've also never cried this much. **Oh gosh, I am such a hopeless romantic and this was just so tragically beautiful. Poor Doctor. Sorry, outburst, but I just had to share it with someone. Also, this explains the possible Doctor Who references in this and future chapter. Now, enough of my emotional trauma. Here's Rebyl.

* * *

**PLAY LIST:**

"**Poison**" - Alice Cooper

"**Bruises**" - Train

"**Heart Attack**" - Demi Lovato

Oh and one more thing. As most of you have already noticed this is a very **PWP** story. **It's a pretty standard, clichéd, boy-meets-girl love story.** Only with crossbows. But I do have to warn you that **this chapter is more a filler/recap/BONUS than anything else**, because I wanted to update a full chapter, but I just had too much work to do. **Guys, I passed 14 EXAMS in the last 4 weeks! 14! **And now I will enjoy some well earned rest. Which also means the return of** more frequent updates**.

**x.X.x**

**CHAPTER VII.**

**Bonus Chapter**

How, Rebeca wondered, did her life get so damn complicated in only three short days? How did she go from volunteering at a free clinic in her spare time, to hiding armed rednecks in closets? And most importantly: why?

She knew of all the logical explanations that came to mind like _Daryl was dying_, and _she was a doctor_, and_ she'd taken a vow to help people in need_, she knew those things. But she also knew that those vows, or even the doctor-patient confidentiality did not encompass keeping secret patients in the on-call room, lying to her coworkers, or not reporting an armed assault to the police. And that was just off the top of her head.

Rebeca ran a hand through her hair and weaved the ends around her fingertips, as she tried to compose herself enough to think of a solution. If there even was one. God, this situation was so royally fucked up. Hell, _she_ was royally fucked. Who needed a boyfriend these days anyway? Life and her big mouth did the job just fine.

Rebeca exhaled a long shaky breath that bordered on a crazed chuckle. _Boyfriend_. The word echoed in her mind like a bad tween pop-song. It made her want to scream.

What had she been thinking?

Well obviously she wasn't thinking.

And that was the root of the problem, really. She didn't think. Not for a second. She never stopped to think this crazy plan through. And just as Irena had predicted, albeit thinking of different circumstances, the consequences of her actions had caught up with her, and Rebeca was not ready. She was nowhere near ready. So she did the only thing she could under the circumstances: she bolted.

She needed time to think, and she needed help. There was no way she was going to solve this one on her own. Of all the possible excuses, how she picked boyfriend was beyond her. If there was ever a word to describe Daryl Dixon _that_ was most certainly not it, but now that it flew out of her mouth, she had no choice but to play the shitty hand she had dealt herself. Which was easier said than done, because Daryl was probably going to shoot her as soon as he saw her. And although that would, admittedly in a very morbid way, solve all her problems, it hardly passed for the declaration of undying love they were supposed to be in.

Pacing the floor Rebeca fished her phone out of her pocket, then stopped mid-step to hit the call button, pressed the phone to her ear and continued walking back and forth.

It rang once, twice, three times, and every time Rebeca grew more impatient.

Another few rings and she was blowing loose scattered strands of hair out of her face.

_Come on, Glenn. Pick up the damn phone._

"DaVinci's Pizzeria, you ask, we deliver?"

"It's about damn time." Rebeca muttered.

"Rebeca?" the voice on the other end of the line asked, puzzled.

"No, it's The Doctor," she said in a way that let her friend know exactly how theatrically she was rolling her eyes. "Do you ever actually check to see who's calling?"

"I'm _working_." Glenn's voice lowered to a whisper, signalling to Rebeca that he probably should not be talking on the phone but for the purpose of taking people's orders.

"What is it with you Asians and work?" Rebeca asked with feigned exasperation, but she knew Glenn could make out the smile in her voice.

"At least I'm not constantly referencing British TV shows," Glenn muttered, and from the shifting background noise that accompanied his statement, Rebeca could tell that he had moved to a more secluded location so that they could talk uninterrupted. "What's up?"

"Ugh," Rebeca swallowed. "Nothing really, I just-"

"Seriously, it's like 8:30 am." Glenn, although tragically clueless in some cases, had an uncanny ability to sense when she was trying to hide something. "You never call this early for a pizza, so you might as well fess up before I get fired for slacking on the job."

When Rebeca didn't answer immediately, his voice became concerned. "Are you okay?"

Rebeca heaved a sigh and tightened her hold around her phone. There really was no way out of it now. "Well, yes, but see I'm in a bit of a pickle."

"Do people even say that anymore?"

"I was hoping to keep this PG13, I wouldn't want to be accused of corrupting the youth using the f-word and all that-"

"I'm 23." Glenn informed her dryly.

"Exactly, I used to babysit you," Rebeca shot back. "Your grandmother would have my head."

Although she could not see her friend's face she could tell he was grimacing, probably blushing too. "Could we not talk about that now? Please?"

"Okay, sorry," she worried her lower lip with her teeth. "You know me, good with sarcasm and bad with discussing personal problems."

"Well, I suck at giving advice," Glenn pointed out. "But I can lend an ear."

"Thanks, Glenn, I really appreciate it," Rebeca murmured gratefully. "I would have talked to Irena but-"

"She's too smug?" Rebeca could easily imagine the knowing look on Glenn's face as he said it.

"Shut up. I'm trying here."

"You haven't actually said anything."

Rebeca sighed for what felt like the millionth time that day, and paced from one side of the room to another with added fervour. Opening up was never her strong suit. Well, once it seemed like the most natural thing in the world for her, but then things happened and Rebeca changed. But Glenn was a friend, and she trusted him.

She didn't get very far with her story. She didn't really expect to, anyway. Glenn was sometimes prone to panic and overreaction.

"You know the guy? And he pointed a gun in your face?!" the Asian shouted so loudly Rebeca had to hold her phone several inches away from her ear to avoid going deaf. "And you didn't call the police?"

She tried to explain, but he wouldn't let her. "Instead... you-you-"

In his outrage he couldn't even finish the sentence. She could almost see the way he was probably running his hand through his hair, tugging at the roots, and making it stick out in a disarray of spikes; a habit he had developed when dealing with stress.

"I saved his brother," Rebeca supplied.

"The one who nearly killed you in his sleep?"

Rebeca cringed. "And then I sort of slept on him."

She could and probably should have kept that piece of information to herself, but she knew it would have slipped out sooner or later anyway. As long as she was spilling her beans she might as well do it like ripping off a band-aid. Unfortunately it was a very massive, bloody band-aid.

"You what?" Glenn's voice broke. "Are you crazy?!" He whisper screamed. "Do you have a death wish?!"

She was seven years older than Glenn, but at that moment she felt like a scolded child.

"They needed my help," she tried to reason, but she knew her explanation would reach deaf ears.

"No," Glenn said firmly. "You can't do this. You don't get to do this." he demanded angrily, then paused.

"Damnit Becks," he finally breathed, his voice softer as he uttered her nickname. "What were you thinking?"

"I wasn't," she confessed guiltily.

"Obviously!" The pitch in Glenn's voice was back. "This is bad. Could you be any further up Shit Creek?"

"Please, Glenn, just let me finish." The frustration Rebeca had kept hidden for her friend's sake was now creeping back, and she found ti hard to keep her voice even.

"That's not _all_?" he sounded like he was about to pass out.

"No, that was just me filling you in." she breathed, and again she only got a sentence or two in before Glenn interrupted her again.

"Someone walked in on you? And you-" he paused for a second, as if trying to wrap his head around what she was saying. "You said this Daryl guy was your-"

"Boyfriend, yeah." Rebeca could no longer keep pacing, so she sagged into the nearest chair.

"And the guy bought it?" Glenn sounded so incredulous it almost made Rebeca smile.

"It was Ross."

"Ross? The intern Ross? From the hospital? The one who has a crush on you?"

"Would you shut up? He doesn't have a crush on me." Rebeca stormed. "And yes, Ross the intern. Thank God for that too."

"Jesus. You have way too much luck on your side." Glenn exclaimed.

Rebeca's tone was bitter "Yeah, just my luck."

"So," Glenn cleared his throat awkwardly at her frosty retort. "How'd he take it?"

"Who?" Rebeca asked, exhaustion evident in her voice. "Daryl or Ross?"

"I can already imagine _Daryl_," Glenn dropped a rather nasty stress on the name, indicating just how highly he thought of the younger Dixon. "didn't take it well. I meant Ross. Did he buy it?"

"I don't know." Rebeca confessed and started biting her lower lip again. Someday, she feared, she might accidentally chew it off.

"What do you mean you don't know?" Glenn was trying really hard not to let his distress show, but was failing miserably.

"Look, I don't know, okay?" Rebeca vociferated, and then words were spilling from her mouth. "I bolted. Ran for the hills. I'm Ross' boss so I ordered him to take care of Daryl's bandages and medicine, and then I just kind of ran out the door, saying I had patients to see. Well, maybe ran is a strong word; I _hastened_." she grimaced at the memory. "I didn't even get a good look at Daryl, and from what I saw he was choking on rage. And now I'm in hiding, calling you."

She took a much needed breath, and when she spoke again her voice was barely louder than a whisper. "This is so messed up."

"I don't know," Glenn drawled thoughtfully. "Maybe it's not so bad."

"Have you been listening to what I just said?" Rebeca asked incredulously.

"Of course I've been listening," Glenn said impatiently. "But you said you left Ross with Daryl, right?"

"Yes?" Rebeca confirmed questionably.

"And you're scared that Daryl blew your cover?"

"Obviously." she hissed.

"Well if he had, wouldn't somebody have found you by now and busted your ass."

"Holy shit." Rebeca blinked. In her irrational panic that thought never even occurred to her. "I think you might be right."

"You know what they say about Asians and geniuses." Glenn pointed out triumphantly. "Now all you have to do is bribe Daryl into keeping up the charade until you can get both him and his unstable brother out of your hair."

"Yeah," Rebeca dragged out the word sarcastically, "I don't think he's the sort of guy you can bribe to do anything."

"He's a guy," Glenn deadpanned. "Show some cleavage or something."

"Seduce a Redneck. Right." Rebeca scoffed. "And get shot?"

"Well how should I know?" Glenn demanded. "He went along with your crazy plan, so there must be a reason for it. Find that out, then go from there. Besides he's covering his ass as much as he is yours. I think that's an upside."

"Yeah, you would," Rebeca said a little ruefully.

"What can I say, I'm a glass half full sort of guy." Glenn chuckled, sounding much too cheerful for Rebeca's taste, but before she could give a snappy retort, Glenn interrupted her. "Shit, boss is coming this way, gotta go."

"Don't forget my pizza." Rebeca managed to get in through his panicked whisper.

"Yeah," Glenn snorted right before hanging up. "Like I'd dare."

**x.X.x**

_**Dear readers, please accept my sincerest apology for keeping you waiting for so long. But, believe me when I say that there was no way of me writing a really decent chapter with the plot development I have in mind, with my complete lack of free time. So I came up with this instead. Some Glenn correspondence because I like him and I had the idea of him and Rebeca being friends for the longest time. There are more goodies to come, I swear. But I wish that this filler/recap chapter helped a little with the wait. **_

**IMPORTANT:** I am going on holiday, and it is quite possible that I will be in **no-internet-land** for about two weeks. But I will be working on more updates, and if I can sneak some internet connection somewhere I will post them as per protocol. **THANK YOU FOR YOUR PATIENCE AND LOVE! **

* * *

**MonDieu666** – you are a very good guesser, I must say. :) I think most of the 'plot' if I can even call this extended oneshot a plot, is pretty see through, I guess. But I hope it's still worth the ride. And thank you for the amazing support. I am also a huge fan so I feel incredibly flattered.

**tellie** – thank you very much for your insight and constructive feedback. I hope my slightly overly-extensive MP cleared some things up.

**Ashlala93** – There you go. It's not a 'real' chapter, but I hope it eases the wait somewhat.

**RachelLynnexx** – thank you. It's the way I intend to keep it. It was intended as something short and sweet. It's got a little out of hand by now as far as length's concerned, but it will be coming to a sensible close. I hope.

**UsefulSpirits** – I am sorry you had to wait so long. I will update a real chapter as fast as I can. Now that exams are done, the updates should pick back up. Also, your grandfather is a total badass. Kudos to Grandpa!

**Riain** – I owe ChooseJoy so much gratitude and love for sending someone my way. And I am so sorry for the wait. Daryl's reaction is coming in the next chapter and hopefully it lives up to the expectations. Thank you for the kind review.

**WhatsGoingO**n – thank you. :) I will hurry up with the actual chapter ASAP

**kyriOsity** – thank you. I am so glad you like my obnoxious type of wit. And I can promise more back and forth coming up in the next chapter.

**Katie93319 **– thank you. I will update again as soon as I can, I am already writing the chapter, but I hope you enjoyed this until then.

**Leyshla Gisel** – Fear not, all will be cleared up in the next chapter.

**Alnihan** – than you :)

**ChooseJoy** – Thank you! Also thank you for promoting my story. I owe you a huge internet hug for that. And for being horrible at updating. The exam period has been dreadful, but I passed everything, and now I can focus on getting much needed sleep and work on more chapters. Until then, I hope this eased the wait at least a little.

**MollyMayhem84** – Well if someone walked in on me with a gun I would be calling everyone in the country for help. I guess I'm making it a wee bit dramatic here. And, yes, poor Daryl. And if he knew what is yet to come he would probably shoot first and ask questions never.

**Maddy-MarieXO** – thank you.


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